


How Far We've Come

by vickydd



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Percy Jackson Fusion, Apollo!Allura, Apollo!Coran, Ares!Keith, Athena!Pidge, BAMF!everyone, Been dying to write this AU, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossover, Demigods, Fluff and Angst, Garrison Trio friendship - Freeform, Gen, Hephaestus!Hunk, Insecure Lance, Langst, M/M, Mystery, PINING KEITH, Paladins as Demigods, Probably 100k+, Probably shallura, Rivals to Friends to Lovers, Team Bonding, Thank the gods for hunk, Zeus!Shiro, a prophecy, a quest, did i already say langst?, greek myths and monsters, klangst, pining lance, slowburn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2018-05-05
Packaged: 2019-01-27 03:03:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 38,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12572304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vickydd/pseuds/vickydd
Summary: Yes, that’s definitely Takashi Shirogane the figure is holding up.“Nope, no, nope, nonono, you don’t – I’m saving Shiro,” he says. He can imagine what he looks like – scratched up, bleeding, pants not done up right, and probably red in the face. He plops himself under the weight of the son of Zeus’s newly installed metal arm.“Who are you?” the figure asks, and Lance gapes for a millisecond.There is no way that Keith Kogane does not recognize him.“Who am I?” he snaps. “Uh, the name’s Lance.”There is no desired “ooohh” effect from the son of Ares who made Lance’s life hell for three years.“We came to Camp the same year? You know, rivals? Lance and Keith, neck and neck?” Lance spits the words out pretty rudely, but it still doesn’t prepare him for the reply.“Oh, I remember you,” the boy says, eyes sharp and dismissive. “You’re the unclaimed kid.”In which Lance deals with finding out who his godly parent is, going on a quest to save the world, and his godly parent blackmailing him with the task of making Keith Kogane fall in love with him. Unlike Lance, it isn’t pretty.





	1. Wherein Lance Has the Shittiest First Day of Summer Ever

**Author's Note:**

> um. . . the pjo au no one asked for?
> 
> Look, I know the talented Vulpes already gave this au a shot, and it was fantastic, but this is my take on it =) I've had it in my head for monthsssss
> 
> I'm not sure you have to have actually read PJO to understand this. honestly, if you have a question just hit me up.  
> I've got a pretty clear plot organized for this, although the chapter count I put up is definitely just a guess, so sorry about that. 
> 
> No warnings not really, hope you like it! not betaed so let me know if you find anything huge =D

Lance begins his fourth summer at Camp Half-Blood on a sour note.

Chiron had allowed him to get his license in the spring, and since then, the centaur lets Lance make trips into the city whenever the camp needed supplies. Sure, they had Argus, but Mr. D had let the guy off on vacation this summer, so Lance had gotten a chance to hit the road. He may not be one of the head counselors, but Chiron knows Lance’s story and Lance isn’t just being extra when he says he’s probably one of Chiron’s favorite campers.

He’d been almost out of the usual Costco Chiron asks him to go to when he saw it.

Just like that, his stomach bubbled and his smile went flat. The long drive back to Camp no longer seemed like a great way to relax. He loaded the stuff into the Camp van and tried not to speed the whole way back to Long Island South.

Hunk greets him at the Mist riddled entrance, and Lance can tell the big guy’s had a productive first day back. Hunk is a child of Hephaestus who lives with his two caring mom’s in the suburbs of New York City, and while he isn’t a year-round camper, he visits Lance whenever he can. Lance notices the soot on his forearms where his best friend probably hadn’t bothered to rinse himself off and the grease stains on the ratty Camp shirt he usually wears when he works in the camp forge. He’s wearing khakis and his signature vest.

Lance can’t help a smile, rotten feeling in his gut aside. “Help me out with the stuff in the van, oh best friend of mine?” he asks, and Hunk pats him hard on the back before squeezing him hard enough around the middle to lift him off the grass. Camp always felt more like home whenever Hunk was around.

“Oh my gods, Lance, you will not believe what Pidge and I have come up with now, I’m serious this time.” The big guy starts, and Lance’s smile gets bigger. “Its epic! You will love it, buddy. Oh fudge, man, I’ve missed you. Did you get skinnier? You got skinnier. Don’t worry, I talked Mr. D into letting me into the kitchen’s tonight, I am so ready. The campers won’t know what hit them.”

He lets Lance down, and Lance is able to come up with a laugh. “Missed you too, buddy.”

Together, they go over to where he parked the van and start the long trek to the big house with the stuff he bought, making small talk. Seeing the merchandise brings about his sour mood again, though, and it isn’t long till Hunk nudges him softly, noting his silence.

“You didn’t, uh – you didn’t see another one, did you?” he asks, the meaning in his vague words not lost on Lance. It didn’t even surprise him that Hunk was so perceptive to what had caused his sourness.

“Another what?” Lance asks, playing dumb. Hunk’s brows furrow in understanding and pity, and he looks away, blue eyes scanning the horizon of the camp.

It’s nearly sunset, and the early summer weather is perfectly warm. The grass and strawberry fields glimmer healthily, and the sky is cloudless. Beautiful.

“Lance,” Hunk stops in his tracks, and moves the bags of stuff he has in his left hand into his right so he can place the left on Lance’s shoulder.

There is no point in trying to keep moving, so he doesn’t try, just looking at Hunk’s feet. “It’s been four years. It’s okay if it’s still hurting you, okay? I’m here for you, you know that.”

It’s tough to swallow, but Lance manages, clearing his throat and meeting his eyes fleetingly. “I do. Thanks, Hunk. I’m just being stupid.”

“Getting upset over seeing that your family is still looking for you isn’t stupid.”  

The words startle him, the truth so blatant it stings. Lance meets his friend’s soft brown eyes in shock, and sees quickly that Hunk hadn’t meant to say it so bluntly and harshly. Hunk drops the hand from his shoulder.

“Sorry,” the other boy says, confirming Lance’s sentiment. “I just – you know I mean well.”

“Yeah,” he replies, starting the trek to the Big House back up. “I do, buddy.”

 

 

Things would’ve been fine, Lance guesses, if that had been the only thing to dampen his mood that day. However – it wasn’t.

Far from it, in fact.

Feeling like he had some definite steam to blow off, Lance had given himself a goal at the welcome back campfire that night. The Apollo kids had some tunes going, and Rolo, the Hermes cabin’s head counselor, had some booze passing around right under Chiron’s nose.

He was sat between Hunk and Pidge, listening as the two of them went back and forth between him about quantum physics. Pidge was surprisingly enthusiastic today, considering her circumstances. Next week would mark a year since her brother had been missing. Both children of Athena, her and her brother, Matt, had been super close. They used to be summer campers, but this last year, Pidge had chosen not to go home, instead focusing on the search for her brother. Sadly, little to no progress had been made. Either way, Lance had been glad to have a friend to annoy over the seasons, and was glad Hunk would cheer the smart little pigeon back to her old self.

Lance looked around the fire, tuning out his friends. He knew a perfect way he could get rid of the gross taste in his mouth that seeing the missing poster had left. His eyes narrowed, and soon he found her.

Ares kid through and through, but a still a hell of a looker, Nyma Cuffs had been an on and off hook up of Lance’s the past year.

He caught her eye, and slowly grinned, making sure to look extra flirtatious. She smiled beck seductively, brows raised and expectant. Bidding farewell to Hunk and Pidge, the natural bounce in his step was back as he let his feet guide him to what the rest of the night might hold.

Which just so happened to be more bullshit.

It was going fine – great, even – when Lance heard the harpy – luckily, before he saw her.

Yes, it was past curfew, and yes, this was an incredibly stupid idea, but hey, it’s not every night a fella’s getting a bj from a hot girl in the forest. Which they’d gotten away with before, for the record.

So, with a heavily contained suffering sigh, he pulls Nyma away and gestures for her to scram. The girl gets the message, and they split. Harder to find if they go separate ways, Lance knows from experience.

It’s dark, so he figures that will be another advantage. The sky shone particularly prettily earlier, but now Lance looks up to see clouds covering the stars.

Lance looks for cover. His pants still down, he struggles to make his way to a pretty dense bush.

Unfortunately for him, he trips.

That’s how the harpy finds him – pants down around his knees and face flat against the ground.

He knows his face is flaring up unattractively, and there are twigs in his hair.

Groaning, he gets up and pulls up his pants in time for the harpy to drag him by his ear towards the big house. He doesn’t find the situation that funny currently, quite the opposite, but a nearly hysterical smile plasters his face gods knows why. Well, if anyone had seen that, they would be laughing. Thank the gods Nyma didn’t see that.

Styx. He hopes she makes it back to her cabin in the clear.

The Harpy isn’t very nice (like most harpies, which figures) so he’s being pulled impatiently by the ear (which fucking hurts) the fastest way towards the big house. The lights there are still on.

It’s just as he passes the tree that guards the magical camp’s borders when he sees it. And hears it.

There’s something going on just outside the camp borders. Lance pulls against the harpy so he can get a better look. That’s not right – does Lance see someone running?

And a motorcycle. He hears a motor. He squints. But no… there’s more.

There is someone running – someone running on the street and down the farthest hill the street trails down – they’re running towards the motorcycle. Before his eyes, the motorcycle is hit by what looks like an invisible force and an explosion blazes up, casting a rider onto the pavement.

“No!” he hears himself yell, and continues to look on, now in horror. The harpy stops pulling him, but Lance barely notices.

The motorcycle is on fire about 100 yards away, an entire football field of distance. There is a figure shadowed by the flames. They start running, and the flames illuminate the figures face.

Energy rips through Lance’s veins in a way he’s never experienced before, and suddenly he’s ripping himself away from the harpy. He runs past the big house, towards the tree.

He can see the person on the hill now. He sprints, yelling out behind him and hoping Chiron hears it from the big house. Chiron _has_ to see this.

There is absolutely no way.

No way by the fucking gods.

It can’t be.

The other figure on the street – the one both Lance and the figure who was near the motorcycle are now running toward –  is surrounded by what look like three vicious _Empousai_. The figure is still moving, but the snake women are moving swiftly around him, and the figure is limping, favoring his left side. Something glints in the faint light the fire casts on them, so Lance figures they’re armed.

Confirming Lance’s suspicions of the figure’s identity, three brilliant streaks of lightning reign down into the ground around the figure, and Lance sees a glint of metal on the figures right side. The sound of thunder so close is disorienting, so Lance disregards it as a trick of the light. The figure looks weaponless, anyway.

He runs faster.

The other figure is about 30 yards to his left now, and Lance recognizes him too. He’d recognize that mullet anywhere.

How _couldn’t_ he recognize the guy who made Lance’s life a living hell?

Once again, he’s shocked. There’s no way that both of these people could be back – hell, _alive_ even.

He really hopes Chiron heard his frantic yells as he ran past the house.

He makes it to the first _Empousai_ in record time. The figure who was running with him makes it to the second snake lady just after.

Now that he’s here, Lance feels dumb. He doesn’t have any weapons on him. Luckily for him, Lance is a great improviser.

He reaches the woman and waits till he has her attention before he says, “Now, come on ladies, I’m sure there’s enough of him to go around, but don’t you think we should give the guy a break? Snack on someone more your type, for a change?”

He punctuates his snark with a clear uppercut to the bitch’s face, and she goes flying into the third monster. Lance takes a moment to feel smug, although his knuckles ache like a Hades. That isn’t what he had intended to do, but that it’d been pretty cool.

This whole facing a blood thirsty monster outside of camp training for the first time was going a hell of a lot better than he’d hoped. Which he hadn’t. Since he hadn’t even thought twice before running out here.

And now, improvising.

He uses the fact that they’re a little disoriented and the guy with the motorcycle has so far covered his back to survey the area. There – one of the _Empousai_ were carrying a small Celestial Bronze dagger, and it had fallen with the punch. How the lady had come across celestial bronze wasn’t a thought Lance wants to entertain, necessarily. Probably her last meal.  

He snaps the dagger up just in time, because there’s the barely there scratch of claws on his back as he dodges into a new position.

The snake lady whose face he punched has a bleeding nose, and neither her or her sister look very happy. Lance gulps, but he brings his pitiful weapon up.

He could do this – it was the same as sparring Pidge, although the snake lady is definitely taller (only by a lot, of course).

The sister he hadn’t hit steps out from behind the injured one, and Lance has to blink twice.

He _knows_ it’s the Mist, but shit. That’s a lot of cleavage. To say the least, Lance is distracted.

She approaches. “Your definitely more at my type, that’s true,” she gestures to where Lance knows the son of Zeus is behind him, “I’m not really into picking bits of metal out of my teeth, as much as the birdy is worth. How bout you, Vic? Do you think he’s pretty, sis?”

The other _Empousai –_ Vic _–_ comes up next to her sister, and her nose is no longer bleeding. Wow, is Lance seeing in double vision, cause those are two really fine babes.

A hand comes up to his cheek and he’s frozen. It’s soft, and nice, and perfectly mani—wait.

“Yeah, sis, the ones with blue eyes always get me. He is a bit rude though, you don’t think, Lu?”

There’s pain down his cheek, and Lance’s eyes widen in recognition of the reptilian fingers _clawing_ down the side of his face. He swings, and Vic gets a one last snakily seductive stare in before she’s gone is a poof of monster dust. Her sister screams in despair.

“You!” the other babe turned reptilian snake lady, Lu, yells. Suddenly there’s a clawed hand around his throat and he’s being lifted off his feet. “You’ll pay for what you did to her! Our job here may have been to recapture our master’s precious Champion, but I’m sure a sweet little snack like yourself will take no time.”

Lance chokes. “Master?” he’s able to question, because seriously, the lack of oxygen to his head is making him a little delirious but that’s weird. Since when do monsters have masters? Lu squeezes a little harder, and Lance’s blade drops from his fingers.

So much for that, he thinks, as spots appear in his vision. He can smell Lu’s rotten breath, completely regretting ever thinking she was hot. Or staring at her boobs.

Good job, Lance. Almost 17, unclaimed, _and_ dead the first time he ever faces a real monster.

At least he killed one of them.

The thought doesn’t really do much to make him feel better.

His vision goes black slowly, almost tauntingly, and he accepts his fate. As much as he can, anyway.

Shockingly though, he only sees black for a couple of milliseconds, because the next moment, he hits the ground in a clump. Taking a huge gulp of air that hurts almost as much as the death grip around his neck had, he opens his eyes.

There’s an arrow in the _Empousai_ ’s neck, and Lance recognizes it.

As Lu flakes out into dust, Lance sees Hunk with his bow out, Pidge not far behind, running towards him.

Well, not just him – them, Lance remembers. He’s not alone.

He forces himself up to his feet and towards where he saw the figure he’d chased out here collapse not a couple seconds ago.

Motorcycle figure beats him there. There’s a slash across his collarbone and a long glinting sword in his hand, but it doesn’t stop him from picking up the collapsed figure and putting one of his arms over his shoulder to get him back up on his feet.

Lance blinks again.

Yes, that’s definitely Takashi Shirogane the figure is holding up, but he looks. . .different.

For one – the gleaming golden metal arm. That’s definitely new.

Huh, that’s what Lu had been talking about then. Lance swallows down adrenaline, fear and maybe a little bit of vomit, not allowing himself to be undone at how shaken up he really feels.

“Nope, no, nope, nonono, you don’t – I’m saving Shiro,” he says, thankfully loud enough through his sore voice that the motorcycle figure hears him, indigo eyes meeting his blue ones in confusion. Lance wastes no time moving towards the two, hand holding the dagger in a firm no nonsense gesture. He can imagine what he looks like – scratched up, bleeding, pants not done up right, and probably red in the face. Or blue, considering the lack of air.

He plops himself under the weight of the son of Zeus’s newly installed metal arm just in time for Hunk and Pidge to finally catch up to them.

“Who are you?” the figure asks, and Lance gapes for a millisecond.

There is _no_ way that Keith Kogane does not recognize him.

“Who am I?” he snaps. “Uh, the name’s Lance.”

There is no desired _“ohhhh”_ effect from the other boy. Shiro groans between them, seemingly unconscious.

“We came to Camp the same year? You know, rivals? Lance and Keith, neck and neck?” Lance admits, he spits the words out pretty rudely, but it still doesn’t prepare him for the reply.

“Oh, I remember you,” the boy says, eyes sharp and dismissive. “You’re the unclaimed kid.”

Lance’s insides do an uncomfortable back flip. He’s about to mutter a sheepish and shameful “uh, yeah,” but Hunk interrupts him. Thank the gods for that boy.

“What happened? Oh my god – is that Takashi Shirogane? _The_ Takashi Shirogane?” Hunk sounds like he might just shit himself, utterly shocked and amazed at the same time. Probably a little horrified too.

“No, it’s the one who lives next door,” Pidge butts in, brandishing her angular katar. The bronze lights up her face in the otherwise dark, and Lance sees the fear she’s trying to hide in her eyes. “Yes, that is _the_ Shiro. . . . Which means, my—”

There’s a call from towards the camp boundaries. “Lance! The rest of you! Get back here! You need to get inside the boundary lines, now!” It’s Chiron. He’s not coming outside the boundary lines himself because he can see the situation is handled, but he’s right. They _have_ to get back. Five demigods just standing around outside camp borders? With one big three kid? They were asking for another batch of _Empousai_ to get in their grill.

“He’s right,” Keith voices what Lance is thinking, and he mentally directs daggers at the bastard. “Let’s go.” He starts moving with Shiro, and Lance does his part, supporting the fallen son of Zeus.

Then, he remembers something.

He gets Keith’s attention with a hand gesture to the fiery motorcycle. “Hey, isn’t that yours?”

The other boy shrugs. Lance knows they’re about the same age, but Keith looks a lot older at the moment. “It’s fine. I stole it. Just needed something to find Shiro with. Didn’t know it was gonna lead me _here_.”

The way he says here is unmistakably distasteful.

Lance sort of regrets asking. He knows Shiro and Keith had been super close prior to. . .  well, it’s not important. At least, hopefully not. There’s silence, and Pidge and Hunk look a little too out of their comfort zone to make small talk. The camp is another 50 yards away, and Lance is really starting to feel the bruises around his neck. Gods, he needs some nectar. And a warm bath. And if the scratches on his cheek scar he _will_ kill a god.

“Oh,” he remembers, “Hunk, buddy, thanks for the save. That was, um,” Lance coughs awkwardly, throat still sore but also trying to swallow down on the remaining adrenaline, “a close one.”

His best friend smiles at him genuinely, nerves aside. “No problem.”

It makes Lance feel a little better.

“Yeah, you’re lucky we were the first ones who reacted,” Pidge admonishes, and there that feeling goes.

“How _did_ you see us, anyways?” Lance asks, readjusting Shiro and trying to make eye contact with Keith. The other boy looks miles away, going between glaring at Thalia’s tree and the ground in front of them. The brunette lets himself take the mullet head in a little better.

Besides the injuries, there’s bags under his eyes. His 80’s hair do is very obviously unkempt, and his face is a bit dirty. Probably soot from the motorcycle explosion. Or monster dust. The boy looks pretty much the same. He’s wearing a red, yellow, and what looks like it’s supposed to be white (might need a wash or five) cropped motorcycle jacket, black jeans, and a black shirt. There’s a utility belt on his waist, but aside from red and white Jordans, fingerless gloves, a maroon bandana, and his sword, it doesn’t look like he’s got much else on him.

He looks like the stereotypical Ares kid, if not a few inches shorter and slightly leaner. Gods, what had happened to him?

Lance desperately wishes to ask, curiosity eating him up inside, but he contains himself. He isn’t asking for anything from that jerk – including information.

Shiro, on the other hand, either the 20(?) year old had gained some serious meat, or the golden arm actually weighed what a golden arm would weigh. Lance shivered, wondering if the new addition had something to do with King Midas. He didn’t think so, but the thought still gave him the creeps.

“—and it was kind of hard to miss the lightning, let alone the thunder.”

Right. Lance had asked Hunk something. Oh well. “Sounds about right, buddy. Gosh, Shiro is heavy.”

Lance had said the Shiro is heavy thing just as a stating the obvious thing, since he had nothing better to do at the moment, but Keith snarks at him anyway. “I can carry him just fine by myself, if you can’t keep going.”

“Rude,” Lance sputters. “I’m fine, just stating a fact.”

They’re almost at the boundary line, but Lance is sweating. It’s a cool summer night, and gods, what a first day back.

First the poster, then Nyma, now this. Now Keith. And Shiro.

How did Keith find Shiro anyway? Seems like Pidge was thinking the same thing, because the girl asks Keith. “So, um, Keith? How – how did you find him? Shiro – I mean.”

Keith glares into the ground. He looks like he might reply, but then, they’re crossing the boundary line, and Chiron is addressing them.

“Pidge, please go wake Coran immediately and tell him to meet us in the med bay. Hunk, if you could kindly take our lost friend Shiro to the med bay, Keith will follow you as he also looks in need of some proper healing. I must have a word with Lance, but do not fret, we are close behind. Those are orders. Which include you, Mr. Kogane.”

Keith, who had looked like he was about to resist, clenched his jaw. His eyes briefly met Lance’s before he turned away, expectantly looking at Hunk.

Lance lets his best friend take Shiro away from him and Keith, and gulps. He’s tired, he’s sore, and he’s beginning to be less and less vaguely aware of his injuries. Hopefully, Coran can patch those up quick so he can sleep as soon as possible. 

Chiron addresses him. Lance forces himself to look up at his mentor’s eyes. He expects to be chided, he realizes.

“You did well, Lance. I’m proud of you.”

Lance feels his heart swell a bit. Chiron was the closest thing he’s had to a parent in four years and the praise felt good. He had not expected it.

“However—” there it is, the disappointment Lance had been waiting for “— your actions tonight, as told by the harpies, were not all honorable. Really, Lance? The first day back?”

“It’s not my first day ba—”

Chiron’s look makes Lance fall silent. His heart is still furiously beating in his chest, and he attempts to swallow down the jumble of emotions he feels swell up. It’s been a long ass day.

“Not my point. You should know better. Now, we will discuss your punishment at breakfast. Until then, just bask in your job as demi god who protects this camp being well done. You appear as though you are about to pass out, so let us go to the infirmary before you actually do, my boy. And please, button up your pants properly.”

Lance chokes on the spit in his mouth. His cheeks flush as he re-buttons up his pants, and he follows Chiron to the infirmary. Being chewed out makes him even more exhausted.

His stomach swishes uncomfortably. He doesn’t know how this day could get worse.

 

 

Murphy’s law. Gods, Lance is an idiot.

Coran and Pidge are just getting to the infirmary when Lance and Chiron catch up to Keith and Hunk, who is still holding Shiro.

Lance uses the opportunity to take a closer look at Shiro. The black hair is the same, but there seems to be a streak of white in badly cut bangs. The clothes Shiro has on are ripped to shreds. Blue jeans that look like he cut them off himself at his knees, and a purple shirt that’s ripped at the bicep. One of Shiro’s ankles looks sprained and wait – is that a shackle?

There’s the remainder of a Celestial Bronze shackle around Shiro’s not sprained ankle. Shit. This was not good. Really not good. Forget the major head bleed Shiro has going on, or anything else.

Coran arrives in a flurry and opens up the infirmary. The Head Counselor for the Apollo Cabin is by far the oldest demigod known to be alive, about 27. He stays at Camp year round, and Lance and him sometimes have a laugh or two together after some drinks (that Chiron and Mr. D will never know about. What? It’s not his fault he’s Coran’s favorite too).

When the ginger hits the lights, Lance almost gasps at the girl lying unmoving in the nearest bed to the entrance.

Right, the ship wreck girl. She’d been here for what? Four months now? Lance had seen something floating off the edge of the beach in March, and risking some serious hypothermia, swam out to her in a hurry, Hunk on the lookout for him so he hopefully wouldn’t drown.

She was always a shock to look at, and in his exhausted and stressed out state, Lance had almost forgotten about her. Which, to be honest, was a hard feat – the girl was seriously gorgeous. Incredibly white hair and smooth dark skin, her features were peaceful in the deep slumber of her coma. When Lance had first rescued her, he’d dreamed she’d wake up and thank him with a kiss for saving her life. But now, four months later, he’d kind of lost hope of that fantasy.

Didn’t seem like the girl would ever wake up. Chiron had chosen to keep her here under Coran’s watchful eye because it was obvious the girl was a demigod. Her skin glowed with beauty and she took nectar and ambrosia just fine. But it didn’t matter what they did, or how many times Lance and Coran visited the Oracle, nothing seemed to wake her.

Whatever, all Lance wants to do right now is to lie down on one of these beds and never wake up.

He takes a seat on an empty bed watching as Hunk lies Shiro down on the empty cot across from the girl’s. Coran is busy getting stuff, but Keith watches vigilantly, not bothering to sit even though Lance can tell from how visibly tense he is that his injuries are seriously bothering him.

He’d say something, but nope. Lance’s utterly sworn enemy didn’t even remember him. _And_ is just a super rude person in general. No way.

What none of them are expecting though, probably not even Keith, the stupid mullet, was for Shiro to gasp awake at the first taste of nectar to his lips.

Thunder rumbles outside. Lance jumps three feet off his cot, all thoughts erased from his brain.

Shiro gasps and breathes deeply, Keith trying to approach him, but Lance can swear he sees literal sparks coming off the son of Zeus. Shiro stands, and Chiron and Coran clear out of the way. It’s like Shiro can’t see any of them, his eyes clouded.

Keith tries stepping up to him. “Shiro, come on, lie down. You’re safe.”

Shiro steps around him.

At first, Lance thinks the man is walking towards him, but no.

He’s walking towards the girl.

Thunder booms somewhere outside the camp, and a spark flies off of Shiro’s extended golden arm and towards the girl. It lands smack dab in the center of her chest, and like the sparks an AED creates when it brings someone back to life, it seems to have the same effect on the white haired demigod.

The young woman sits up with a gasp, eyes opening in a blast of electric blue. Her hair flies around her, but instead of looking shocked with electricity, it looks windblown and romantic.

The clothes they had redressed her in after finding her soaked to the bone, a white shirt and black sweatpants, do nothing to hide how beautiful her figure is or how she seems to glow and wait –

The girl is glowing. Gold light seems to shine from her, and for a second, Lance thinks, shit. This girl is _actually_ a goddess about to take her true form and they are all fucked. She stands, white curls cascading down her back and down to her hips all around her. The medical bay looks like the utmost normal and mundane surroundings for this – this being – completely out of place.

He looks away, but it seems he didn’t have to, because just then, the light – almost like sunlight, he notices – starts fading, and he turns back around to face her.

She’s still glowing, way more muted now. His legs move, and he’s walking towards her. All his aches are gone, and it’s as if nothing else matters. Something has overcome him, he knows – realizes, but Lance doesn’t care.

But wait, what was that sound?

Lance watches as the girl’s eyes close, and he feels the power go out of her in one fell swoop. When she opens them again, they are still blue, but nowhere as electrified and intense as they were a second ago.

The same must have happened to her strength, because she tumbles, and Lance catches her, confused as to when he had the time to move so close.

For a second all is silent, and Lance takes in the rest of the people in the room. He’d almost forgotten they were there. Styx.

The noise he had heard had apparently been the sound of Shiro falling, and Keith and Hunk were currently picking him back up. When he’d fallen, whatever trance the girl had been in must have ended, Lance guesses.

Speaking of the girl, she seems to be making an effort to look up in his arms, and he looks down at her.

Wow, he knew she was pretty, but up close, especially after that display, she’s gorgeous.

“Hello,” he says as smoothly as he can, feeling the wear return to his body from his injuries. He’s blushing, but then again, who wouldn’t be?

“Who are you? Where am I?” she asks, her voice surprising him. She has an accent.

Hot.

Time to up his game, forget being tired as hell. “I’m Lance. And you’re right here in my arms.”

“Excuse me?” the girl asks, and Lance doesn’t even have time to huff out a sorry and set her back on her feet before she’s grabbing him by the ear and twisting him down to his knees.

He hears a muted chuckle, and curses Hunk in his head.

“Hey! Hey! Hey!” he tries when no one seems to be coming to his rescue, not even Chiron. “Let me go, I come in peace, calm down! I’m the one who saved you!”

“Saved me from what?” she says, almost demanding enough to cover the fear in her voice.

“You were shipwrecked! At, least, we think you were, because we found you in the water – well, I found you, and oh my god, is this really necessary? I’ll tell you more if you let me up.”

“Please,” comes Chiron’s voice from across the room, “my dear, he means you no harm. We mean you no harm.”

She lets Lance go, and he stands, stretching and cracking his now, even more sore extremities. The others around the room look shocked, Keith included from where he holds an unconscious Shiro.  

“I am sorry,” the girl utters, truly seeming distraught. Lance would be too if he’d woke from a five-month nap, he guesses. “The last thing I remember is the destruction of my mother’s ship. There was a storm – the gods were not happy with my father—”

“You are aware of the gods?” Chiron asks, attempting to focus the girl.

She looks at him as though he was a mad man. “Of course I am. My father is Apollo. My mother was a daughter of Nike, her father a son of Zeus. But I do not understand – where am I? Who are you?”

“We are fellow demigods,” replies Coran. “Except for Chiron, he is, well, he is a centaur, as you can see. I am also a child of Apollo.”

“We’re in New York,” Hunk adds, answering that part of her question.

“New York?” the girl gasps. “Oh my. I know we were set on course for America, but no. . . I have been casted so far by the sea?”

The girl’s accent seemed more prominent the more she spoke, but Keith beats Lance to asking about it.

“Wait – we’ve told you who we are, but who are you? Where are you from?”

“I was born in Greece,” she replies, obviously proud of her heritage. “My name is Allura Vasilikós1 and I am champion to the god Apollo.”

Lance recognizes the girl’s last name. It is a Greek word. He looks over at Hunk questioningly, and the boy is already mouthing the word’s meaning back at him: _royal_.

That’s quite the last name.

“You have met your father, then?” Chiron questions.

“Yes. It was him, who told my mother and I to travel to America, with haste. He did not say much as to why, and my memories are quite unclear. I recall my ship was wrecked in a storm, and now that I have woken, I am in New York. . . but how long has passed?”

The room is quiet, for a moment. Shiro coughs abruptly, and Coran begins again with healing the son of Zeus. Keith looks lost, and finally takes a seat at the head of Shiro’s bed. He reaches for a piece of Ambrosia without asking Coran first, and Lance is reminded of his own injuries. He begins towards where he knows the nectar is kept. The son of Apollo doesn’t comment.

Pidge is the one who finally speaks up. “Hate to break this to you, Allura, but it’s been four months since Lance rescued you from the waves off our camps shore. It is now June.”

Her white hair fluttering around her as she went down, Allura takes an abrupt seat on the bed behind her. “Oh my. No. .  . it cannot be. My mother – she is dead, then? My crewmates? Friends?”

Chiron walks over to her, and puts a calming palm on her shoulder. “We do not know, my child. For now, I think it important you let Coran take a look at you, and we will contact Olympus. See if maybe Dionysus is capable of learning more of your situation. It is not by chance that you survived the long journey all the way to Long Island, my dear.”

“You are right. Is this the – the camp – my father spoke of? For half-bloods?” she asks. Her blue eyes have dulled immensely since Lance first saw them. He feels bad for her, in that moment.

They all do.

“It is,” is all Chiron says. “It is becoming incredibly late. Once Coran takes a look at the all of you, please proceed to your cabins. Keith, you are welcome to stay here with Shiro or rest in the Ares Cabin. Allura, Coran will be pleased to accompany you to the Apollo cabin after he is done. Hunk and Pidge, could the two of you please make sure Lance makes it back to the Hermes cabin with no, ahem, detours after he is healed? I will call a counselor's meeting immediately after breakfast tomorrow. I expect all of you to be there.”

Lance ducks his head sheepishly. The others all nod.

Allura is still gazing at the wall across her dully, but she seems to give an airy nod at Chiron’s words. she isn't crying, but her eyes are wet.

Lance looks away.

Keith is the last to react. “I’m staying here,” he says firmly, and awaits Chiron’s nod. Shiro begins to snore from his place on the cot. 

And so, Lance is almost at the end of what was probably the shittiest first day of camp ever. Little did he know, each day after that one for weeks to come would only grow worse.

Being a demigod sucked.


	2. Lance Discovers Keith Doesn't Have to Try to Be an Asshole - He's That Way Naturally

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I woke up in a room, completely confused. Somehow – I have no idea – I was suddenly released, and I began to run. I didn’t even think about Matt till I’d run for what felt like hours. Everything felt fuzzy, and I didn’t even remember I had been on a quest till ages later. But I was still underground. All I knew was that I had to get back to camp. I – I think my father called out to me, or something, because before I knew it I found an exit – in New York.”
> 
> Pidge gasped, huge eyes wide behind her glasses. “It can’t be.”
> 
> Chiron nods at her, proud she made the connection so quickly. Shiro looks down, eyes far away as he studies the table. The other counselors are looking around at each other, shocked. A little scared, too. Hunk elbows Lance, expression set in amazement. “Bro,” Hunk mouths at him, shocked.
> 
> “It can’t be what?” Lance says aloud, feeling dumb for not knowing what they were all reacting to.
> 
> Keith raises a brow at him, and if possible, looks even more unimpressed.
> 
> “Shiro got away through the labyrinth,” he says, voice flat. “Daedalus’s Labyrinth.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... what? I totally promise my update schedule is not once a year. =)
> 
> hehe sorry about the wait, anyway hope you really enjoy and I love love LOVED your feedback and guesses for the first installment so much!! by the way, i might edit the first chap a bit in the future, and will definitely add a note to it when i do <3
> 
> Happy reading, I actually LOVE how this chapter turned out 
> 
> PLEASE tell me if you need more Percy jackson tings explanations, i can either add them to the text or explain in author notes =)
> 
> (no warnings, as always, hit me up if you want the tags to be updated etc.)

Lance is surprised to see Keith at breakfast.

Looking over to the Athena and Hephaestus tables, he can tell that Pidge and Hunk feel the same way.

Over at the Apollo table, Allura is being talked to by Coran, who is going on off about how the camp works, the activities, whatever else he sees fit, Lance guesses. He feels a bit sorry for Allura – Coran could be a lot at times. However, it looked like the girl was taking it quite in stride. Maybe being siblings with guy made it easier to tolerate?

Anyways, Lance sat with the Hermes cabin, as he had for the last three years. Gods, when will his stupid godly parent finally claim him.

He gets up in time with the rest of his cabin to go dump some offerings into the fire, and chants a little prayer. _Yo, godly parent of mine. This is to you. Any day now._

 

 

 

Immediately after breakfast, Chiron comes in and announces the meeting to the other counselors. Only then is it that Lance notices he’d been absent during breakfast itself.

He sees Keith get up fast from the Ares table, and something urges him to approach the guy. After all, Lance did sort of help save his life. Maybe he’d been in a bad mood yesterday. Maybe today he’s nice guy Keith.

Getting up quickly and waving bye to his fellow cabin mates (he was literally the only unclaimed living with them at the moment, it was _so_ humiliating), he caught up to Keith using long strides.

The other boy was dressed in a new shirt – on of the camp ones from the gift shop. He had what looked like the same ripped and worn pants on, with the Jordans. His hair looked clean, albeit still shaggy and in mullet form. Gross.

“Hey, mullet! Wait up,” Lance calls out, and the glare Keith throws over his shoulder almost makes him regret it. The guy doesn’t even slow down.

Never mind then. Nice guy Keith was unavailable at the moment – please leave a message at the beep.

Nevertheless, Lance reaches him and walks with him, giving the guy a long stare. It seems like Keith is completely determined to ignore him. Lance has to slow his pace to match the son of Ares’s, and just as Lance is about to give up, he gets a reaction out of him.

“What?” Keith snaps, irritated.

“You really don’t remember me?” He asks, and oops, Hades that is not what he had meant to ask. Now he seems desperate for attention and needy. That’s even worse than having a mullet.

It’s Keith’s turn to look at him, the sharp way his eyes seemed to judge him making Lance twitch uncomfortably. “Being able to recognize every last idiot at this camp has never been a priority of mine. So, no.”

Wow.

Keith’s reply to him yesterday had not been the guy just having a bad day. The son of Ares was really just a real asshole. Just like he’d been before running off, Lance determines. No point in trying to see past that, he guesses.

“Oh wow,” he ends up saying. “It was _not_ nice talking to you then, dude. I’ll see you at the meeting.”

The last sentence comes out a bit colder than Lance had meant it to, but whatever. Lance uses his longer – ha – legs to outpace Keith and walk ahead, and when he looks back at the boy the only thing on his face was frustration. Lance decided he could care less at whom it was directed.

He gets to the big house before everyone else, he realizes. Walking in, he sees a sight that kind of surprises him.

Takashi Shirogane, awake and drinking a Diet Coke, conversing causally with the Greek god of wine.

Actually, it’s not such a surprising sight. Mr. D and Shiro _are_ brothers, after all.  

“Mr. D! You’re back,” he exclaims, a bit nervous. It was one thing to have broken camp rules when it was just Chiron manning the camp. Now, Mr. D? That guy would turn him into a bottle of wine before even considering he might not taste that great.

“Louis,” the god says, unimpressed. “Chiron, the unclaimed boy is here!”

Lance stops himself from correcting the god, grinding his teeth. He was used to it, especially after nearly four years of living with the god. Chiron comes into the room at Dionysus’s call, smiling at Lance kindly. He gulped, expecting something bad, if Dionysus had called him out.

“Lance, my boy. Mr. D and I have established a reasonable punishment for your behavior prior to last night’s shenanigans. Please await me before leaving the meeting.” The door to the big house banged shut, and new voices were heard entering. “We have other matters to discuss, now.”

With a sigh, Lance walks towards Shiro and Mr. D to take a seat. He is surprised when Shiro gets to his feet as Lance approaches, hand out.

“Lance, right?” He asks, smiling kindly. The guy looks ten times better than he had last night, bless Coran, but the shadows under his eyes hadn’t gone away. Now that he isn’t sizzling with electricity or injured, Lance notes other differences.

There’s a scar across his nose – probably one of the injuries left too long without godly foods to heal it, causing it to scar. Lance can’t imagine how much a deep gash like that one must have hurt when it first occurred. And then. . .

The arm, of course.

Lance grasps it in his, and shakes. He feels sheepish. _The_ Takashi Shirogane knows his name. Shiro had practically been the camp hero, only a year and some ago. How times had changed. It was still a bit crazy that the guy was even _alive_ , let alone that Lance had helped him stay that way.

The metal, glinting golden in the light, feels cool in his palm, and he notices Shiro also made a wardrobe change. He stands in a black Nike sleeveless tank that fits him tight – probably from before he’d left, found amidst his belongings in the Zeus cabin. Shiro had lived at Camp Half-Blood longer than he had – longer than practically anyone there. They say he came at the age of eight, orphaned and alone, fighting off an evil wind spirit at the entrance of camp. Zeus had claimed him from the get go, presenting the boy with a belt that grew into a celestial bronze spear.

Stories like that – the ones where the gods seemed to be proud of their children, adamant that they be recognized – always left him feeling like he’d been squeezed too tight around the middle, and that his heart would burst with longing.

“Yeah,” he finally says, squeezing firmly once before letting go and finding a seat next to Shiro. Keith comes in then, Hunk and Pidge not far behind, and Keith makes a beeline for Shiro.

The other counselors, including Rolo, gasp at the sight of their long lost friend and fellow counselor. Keith exchanges a quiet word with Shiro, who smiles and pats him on the arm, before ushering to the other side of the table, sitting directly across from Lance.

Lance soon wishes he had chosen a similar seat, because nearly a dozen counselors ambush Shiro, pushing past each other to make sure he’s real.

“Oh my gods,” says the Demeter girl, thrown.

“Shiro! Oh, what happened?” asks the Aphrodite one, flirtatiously placing a hand on Shiro’s uninjured shoulder.

“Holy Hephaestus,” Hunk’s cabin’s counselor says, shocked.

“Athena almighty, it can’t be,” says a son of Athena, the temporary Athena cabin counselor. Lance eyes Pidge. How is the girl doing? He’s been so preoccupied with himself he hasn’t even thought of her.

“Enough!” Chiron shouts over the noise. Soon enough, everyone finds a seat or spot around the room. Hunk and Pidge were able to squeeze in on the right side of Lance, Shiro still flanking his left. It’s falls quiet.

“Last night,” Chiron begins, “we were lucky to gain back one of our beloved heroes. Yes, Shiro is back, and he would appreciate it if you did not overwhelm him. We have to thank Keith and Lance, as well as Hunk and Pidge for this—”

“Yes, yes, yada yada,” says Dionysus. “We get it. Luke and Ken and Hank and Piggy all helped save the hero. Get on with it.”

The whole room sent the wine god a look, although he just took a sip of his own Diet Coke, seeming oblivious to how much they all were annoyed by him. Even his son, the counselor for his cabin, rolled his eyes at his father.

Chiron clears his throat. “Why, yes. As Mr. D put it, we do have more to discuss.”

The room awaits his words, and Lance feels the tension. He had to be talking about Allura.

“About four months ago, a fellow camper of ours, Lance – who also helped last night in protecting the camp – rescued a very important person unknowingly from far off the shores of our beach.”

Shiro pauses, but it’s enough for Lance to overhear some of the whispers the other campers are directing to each other.

“That’s a lot of stuff for an _unclaimed_ kid,” is said, a bit meanly, and Lance recognizes the Ares counselor.

“Has he been claimed yet, after all that?” Is said as well, much nicer. Probably the Demeter girl.

“That’s my boy,” Rolo says, smiling at him. Lance tries not to let it show on his face how much the comments bring him down, but sends Rolo a small grin, besides it.

He feels Hunk nudge at him, wearing a proud, if not a bit extra, grin. Like: _you go, man._

Once again, he thanks the gods for Hunk.

“Continuing,” Chiron says loudly, having noticed the chatter and sparing Lance a pitying glance, “it is my pleasure to introduce to you Allura Vasiliskos: great granddaughter of Zeus, granddaughter of Nike, and daughter and champion of Apollo.”

The girl Lance had rescued makes her entrance then. She is dressed differently. Lance figures she must have been welcomed to look in the attic for a new outfit, because he can’t think of anywhere else in the camp she might have gotten what she’s wearing.

Skinny blue jeans, which were normal enough, but they were matched with a flowy hip length tie-dye blue, white and pink shirt. It looks like it came from the hippie era. Don’t get Lance wrong, she still looked gorgeous on it, and it totally worked, but it was. . . definitely different.

There were a lot of low murmurs of surprise and awe when the girl made her appearance. He heard the Aphrodite girl say “woah,” under her breath, probably amazed at the girl’s beauty. Lance decided to whisper to Hunk and Pidge.

“You don’t think I still stand a chance, do you?” he asks them, only half-joking. He smiles when both of them crack their own respective semblances of the classic and often seen “you wish, Lance” face, and looks across the ping pong table.

As if he’d heard what Lance said, Keith was glaring daggers at him. The unclaimed demigod turned back to where Allura stood, ignoring him.

“It is a pleasure to meet all of you,” she says kindly, and Dionysus, strangely enough, is kind enough to pull a chair up for her to sit in, between himself and Shiro. Weird.

Chiron begins again. “Allura will be remaining at camp for the time being, until the gods are able to determine the mysteries behind her appearance. Only a few people will be informed of such details, so do not bother pestering the poor girl for information. She is to stay in the Apollo cabin and Coran has already agreed to guide her in the next few weeks as she settles back in. Please make her feel welcome. Any questions of significant importance?”

Rolo finds his voice in the silence that follows. “Uh, how did she wake up? No offense,” he says to Allura apologetically, to which she simply shakes her head at him to go ahead, “but weren’t you, like, sleeping beauty for a couple months there?”

Murmurs erupt at what they can all admit is a pretty good question. If Lance hadn’t been there himself, he’d have to say he wouldn’t quite believe the girl was awake.

Chiron seems to think so too, because he answers patiently. “That is where our young Shiro comes in. As all of you know,” Chiron’s tone takes on a darker tone, and the tension in the room intensifies. Across from him, Keith fidgets with the collar of his jacket. “Shiro, Matt Holt and the satyr, Kaltenecker, all left for a deadly quest to retrieve Zeus’s shield, Aegis, many, many months ago.”

Lance takes in Pidge. The girl seems to have stopped blinking at the mention of her brother, and Lance sees Hunk place a hand into hers, which are clenched together under the table. She hadn’t stopped searching for Matt since they’d lost contact with the three. Lance had been there the whole time, watching from the outside of her storm of emotions and being able to do nothing – as usual.

“As all of you also know, about two weeks after the quest was launched, which lead the trio cross country to California, all contact was lost with the heroes.“

Chiron looks like is going to continue, but to Lance’s surprise Keith beats him to it. “Ares found the shield, in the end.”

The room had been intently listening to the centaur, but there’s not a single glance left on him after Keith speaks up. Something in the way he glares at all of them unabashedly makes Lance think.

The child of Ares had changed sometime in the last year, Lance concludes, the realization sinking in finally. Gone was the boastful warrior who made up for what he lacked in height and physical build with harsh words and talented jibes of his sword. This teenager, a little older than Lance, was quiet, untrusting, and still mean, but beneath that, incredibly loyal. Loyal to Shiro, and just like he’d been before the disappearance of his closest friend, to his godly parent.

Chiron clears his throat. “Yes, the gods could not locate any of them, and a week later, Ares completed the quest, retrieving the shield. Countless searches were launched, and yet, no one was able to locate the trio.”

Once again, this sparked the room to break out into conversation. “What happened?” “How did they get lost?” “It’s been over a year, how is he here now?”

Finally, the Athena cabin’s counselor spoke up, louder than the rest. “Where’s Matt? What happened to him?”

The tense atmosphere returns to the room. Everyone had been thinking this question, it seems, but not voicing it aloud. With Shiro so obviously present where two others were still absent, Lance understood. Before Chiron can try to give an answer, Shiro steps up.

If his arm hadn’t been obvious before, it is now. Seeming to have an almost glowing presence, the whole room holds its breath as the son of Zeus stands. As always, Shiro looks undeniably strong – a son of the big three. Fierce with power that isn’t unlike that of what you’d imagine standing in the presence of a god would feel like.

Dionysus seems like a joke next to Shiro, in his leopard print and khakis. It’s a bit frightening, and does nothing to lessen the tension in the room.

In looks as well, does Shiro seem godly. If the guy hadn’t been his such a distant figure to him – a hero of sorts, unreachable and untouchable – Lance would probably have had the biggest crush on him.

“I think it’s time I say something. I. . . I don’t remember the last year very well. In fact, to me, it seems impossible that it’s been a year.” The guy swallows, eyes casting to Keith. After a moment, he continues. “I remember taking off for the quest, and finding ourselves in California. I recall following a lead for the shield into some underground tunnels. We were stopped by a huge group of monsters – it seemed impossible so many of them had gathered in one place. Kaltenecker didn’t make it as we fought against them, and they captured me and Matt. And then . . .then I don’t remember.”

Everyone in the room holds their breath. Lance’s nails dig into his palm, but he feels to strung up to stop. Shiro is still talking.

“I woke up in a room, completely confused. Somehow – I have no idea – I was suddenly released, and I began to run. I didn’t even think about Matt till I’d run for what felt like hours. Everything felt fuzzy, and I didn’t even remember I had been on a quest till ages later. But I was still underground. All I knew was that I had to get back to camp. I – I think my father called out to me, or _something_ , because before I knew it I found an exit – in New York.”

Pidge gasped, huge eyes wide behind her glasses. “It can’t be.”

Chiron nods at her, proud she made the connection so quickly. Shiro looks down, eyes far away as he studies the table. The other counselors are looking around at each other, shocked. A little scared, too. Hunk elbows Lance, expression set in amazement. “ _Bro,_ ” Hunk mouths at him, shocked.

“It can’t be what?” Lance says aloud, feeling dumb for not knowing what they were all reacting to.

Keith raises a brow at him, and if possible, looks even more unimpressed.

“Shiro got away through the labyrinth,” he says, voice flat. “Daedalus’s Labyrinth.”

 

 

 

The meeting ended shortly after that revelation. Lance pushes away the voice in his head telling him he’s a dumbass. Of course they had all realized that Shiro had somehow survived traveling through _the_ Daedalus’s labyrinth – the most deadly myth of them all, pretty much – all by himself.

Shiro is alive. Without memory, tired as death, one would assume, but alive. Scarred.

There was an awkward moment after they’d all processed that Shiro must really be a god, to have survived what he did, where the Aphrodite girl asked about his arm.

Keith glared daggers at her. Her name is Daphne, Lance recalls. Put on the spot, Shiro had twitched a bit, the most un-composed he’d been since the meeting started, which was saying something.

It was a bit stereotypical that a child of Aphrodite had asked the question, Lance thought. So focused on superficiality. Shiro’s arm may be superficial, but did she see the look on his face when she spoke up about it? That wound was way deeper than the surface.

“As I said,” Shiro had kindly managed to answer her, despite his obvious discomfort, “I don’t remember much – nearly nothing. I woke up with it as it was, and really only grew conscious of it when it came in handy to kill monsters. Um, pun not intended. To the best of Chiron’s knowledge it’s made of both imperial gold and celestial bronze.”

“One could say. . . you were lucky to be so heavily _armed_ ,” Lance had spoken up to the nervous room, taking pity on Shiro unfocused gaze and clenched fist.

Everyone had cracked a smile, and when their attention averted from Shiro, the man had touched him on the arm lightly, whispering thanks.

Anyways, Lance felt really warm for a couple of minutes, just until Chiron called the meeting to an end, and he remembered punishment awaited him.

Allura is led out by Coran, Rolo sends him a sharp grin before heading out, and Hunk and Pidge wish him good luck, although Pidge’s is quite subdued.

The two have almost identical schedules, and Lance always feel a little left out by it when summertime comes and his schedule is a little different, way more general, so he’s almost thankful to still be stuck at the meeting.

It surprises Lance that Shiro is asked to stay, and he feels hot, knowing his hero is about to watch him get reprimanded for getting a blow job in the woods past curfew. Whatever, he tells himself, it doesn’t matter to him.

Keith is the last out. He wants to stay and talk to Shiro, obviously, but Mr. D encourages him to leave with a threat to turn “Ken into a Barbie doll”. Lance almost chokes trying not to laugh, but he sees Shiro break out into smile as well.

Keith, as he has so many facial expressions with such a wide array of emotions, glares at all of them before leaving, with a promise of waiting for Shiro outside.

Chiron places a hand on Lance’s shoulder, startling the boy out of watching Keith walk away – which Lance doesn’t actually know why he was doing. “Lance, I will cut to the point. Our friend Shiro here has asked that he be somewhat monitored.”

“What do you mean, monitored?” he glances at Shiro, who looks away a little, almost shyly. Lance is confused.

Mr. D rolls his eyes at him, and Chiron explains himself.  “He wants some help reestablishing himself back to camp, and someone who can keep an eye on him.”

“Wait, you want me to _babysit_ Shiro?” Lance cringes at his wording. As does everyone else in the room. Well, it’s already out of his mouth, so too late.

Shiro’s cheeks are faring a little pinker, but he answers Lance. “I wouldn’t use those words, but yeah. That’s the sense of it.”

“But why? And better yet, why me? Why not Keith?” he questions, quite honestly thrown for a loop.

“Well, you were in need of some sort of disciplining and consequences to your actions. And well, Keith hasn’t been at camp for almost a year. The three of us talked, and if someone could just make sure Shiro isn’t, well, we’re not sure exactly, but that he isn’t suffering any side effects from his time gone?”

“Like PTSD?” Lance blurts, ever blunt. Shiro flinches, but ultimately nods. “I mean, um, sometimes the older campers get that when they come back from quests. I didn’t want to assume, sorry, you definitely don’t look like you have P—”

Shiro cuts him off, unoffended. Thank the gods.

“Yes. But it’s mostly just a precaution. I don’t want anyone getting hurt, and I don’t want to miss something I do that might be a clue to my lost memories. Your job would just to keep an eye on me – be my friend.”

“Again, I ask, I get Keith hasn’t been a camp for a while, but couldn’t he handle this? Aren’t you two really close already?”

“Keith is a bit. . . instinctive.” The way the son of Zeus speaks about the other boy appears as though like he is trying not to sound insulting. “Also – I remember you, Lance. You and Keith might have butted heads a lot, but you were never unkind or cruel to anyone, and to be frank, I admire you.”

Lance splutters. “What, why?”

“At my age, especially after a couple of quests, if my father had not been there for me in the maze – I can’t imagine not being bitter towards the gods. I know you haven’t been on a quest, but even without knowing your godly parent, you’ve never come across as bitter – as un-loyal or angry towards the gods. That’s admirable, from where I’m looking at it,” the dark haired man finishes, stormy grey eyes reaching out to Lance’s shocked blue ones.

Lance doesn’t know what to say. He chokes out a thank you, and lets Shiro’s words churn over in his brain, storing them away for another time.

“Well,” he recovers himself, “then you’ll be lucky to have me. I’ll be the best, um, not babysitter you’ve ever had.”

Shiro smiles kindly in reply, gray eyes seeing beneath Lance’s façade but uncaring of it.

“Then it’s settled,” the centaur in the room stands, taking a leave with a small thank you to Lance.

“Finally,” mutters Mr. D, looking bored far beyond possible, “I thought Larry was never going to get it. Shoo, now, the both of you. I have seen enough of ugly demigod mugs for the rest of the century this morning alone. Out.”

The two demigods do as requested, neither completely unable to hold their sighs.

 

 

 

 

The day goes by quickly, Shiro and Lance moving from location to location within the camp without much interruption. After Shiro had explained the situation to Keith, who’d grumbled about it loudly and glared when Shiro told him that they would talk later, the day went by smoothly.

His new job as Shiro’s not-babysitter was easier than he’d thought it would be. The guy wasn’t as messed up as Chiron and himself had sold him out to be. They did the rock climbing wall, then they canoed for a while, they took a break after lunch to study mythology. Shiro shared stories of the gods or monsters he remembered meeting himself, and it was fascinating. Shiro also was, as expected, good at everything, and was able to help Lance out with his pronunciation.

They’d missed their time lot in the arena that morning due to the meeting, so they didn’t train, but Lance figured that was okay. Shiro probably had enough fighting for a lifetime.

But now, as Lance lies in bed in the rarely quiet Hermes cabin after having said good night to Shiro after the campfire, watching as he walked off with Keith, he can’t help but feel excited.

Maybe now that he had an actual purpose in the camp – that he was contributing to something – his parent would claim him. Maybe tomorrow at training everything would go smoothly and Lance would learn cool tricks and how to actually fight, with Shiro as his mentor. Maybe Keith would act like the son of Ares Lance remembered, challenging him in the Arena – this time with Lance actually beating him rather than getting embarrassed in front of his peers and beaten to pulp.

Lance is so sick of yearning for things, for missing things, that he chastises himself for these thoughts before he falls asleep. It’s one thing to hope that he’ll be a hero, and that he’ll have a family again, or that he’ll find love eventually, and it’s another to believe that it’s actually going to happen.

He pinches his eyes shut tightly, wills away his thoughts, and tries to fall asleep without remembering that less than 48 hours ago, the thing that caused him the most grief was a poster in Costco, claiming him to be a missing child (now teenager) with a family that loved him.

Yeah, he doesn’t fall asleep for a while.

 

 

 

 

A week passes.

A week passes, and all seems calm. The camp, the weather, the fellow demigods – even Keith.

No one claims him, Shiro doesn’t seem to be having _any_ issues readapting to camp life, and Hunk and Pidge continue look for clues where there doesn’t seem to be any in regards to Matt’s whereabouts.

There has been no word from the gods about Allura. Lance knows this because he overheard Chiron telling Shiro when he waited outside for the guy, obviously trying _very_ hard not to eavesdrop.  

Keith and Lance have only butted heads a couple of times in the last week, and Lance pathetically tries not to think about it. He’ll bait the other boy, only to be ignored, insulted, and then left feeling worthless. Keith thinks he’s so much better than him, Lance assumes, with the way he only talks to Shiro when Lance isn’t around, but is always following the two at a reasonable distance, eyes never leaving Shiro.

 _Chill, bruh_ , Lance thinks. Shiro is a 6”3 hunk of muscle. He can protect himself. (Unlike Lance, who although was at 6”, was a bean pole of lean muscle mass and sharp corners. Which made Lance think, once again, why was _he_ babysitting Shiro, of all people?)

Seeing Shiro train is crazy amazing. On Thursday he’d let a gust of wind blow through the arena, helping him barrel down onto an advanced training dummy. Blowing off steam with exercise seemed like his cup of tea.

And Lance had to admit, he was excited as Hades for the Capture the Flag game that night. Every Friday, the cabin made two teams and rounded up in the forest, using what they learned in training to practice against their fellow demigods and monsters strategically placed in the forest by the Camp leaders. It was definitely the best part of Camp Half-Blood in the summer and winter breaks.

And now, the whole camp had decided to participate, including Aphrodite and even Hypnos (which it was a miracle they hadn’t already fallen asleep in the middle of planning), as a way to celebrate Shiro’s return.

At first, Keith had said he was not participating, period – team work, spirit, or any form of fun not a part of his vocabulary. Then Shiro had convinced him too, saying that since they were on opposite teams, Keith could take a hand at trying at beat him.

Lance was surprised when Keith gave in to that, a spark of his old competitiveness a light in his eyes. The last week, Keith had trained with Shiro and Lance in their slot three times, and each time Shiro had beat him, even though the younger demigod had been quite close the last time.

Lance would be bitter about it, but he’d decided after the first night that he had to let whatever it was about Keith that got to him go, because Shiro was depending on him. Of course, it wasn’t working that well, as the three times that Keith had trained with them had ended in a shouting match between the Ares and unclaimed kid, but well, that wasn’t Lance’s problem.

He was also happy because of the way the teams had been split.

Hephaestus, Athena, Hermes, Zeus, and Aphrodite were one team, the other being made up of Ares, Apollo, Demeter, Dionysus, Hecate, Hypnos, and the rest of the minor gods in the other. They seemed pretty even and Lance got to hang out with all his friends. He was also kind of stoked to see if the girl he’d rescued, who he had continued to observe at a distance as she began to fit into the camp (in his defense he’d caught Shiro doing the same thing), was a good fighter. So far, their schedules hadn’t matched up for Lance to get a look at Allura’s maneuvering in a fight.

Pidge was kind of investing herself borderline unhealthily into the game, but then again, it was better than obsessing over her brother, and that also added to Lance’s pleased attitude to the game.

Hunk had helped distract the Athena child with the game, and Lance was grateful because he was busy with Shiro, so it wasn’t like he could. Shiro was nervous for the game though, and that was the only thing that felt off about tonight.

Lance looks around the meeting room, with demigods piling out and collecting armor and weapons as they went. Shiro is still stood over the table the Athena campers had brought to the strategy meeting, hands flat against it.

“Everything alright?” Lance asks the man tentatively. Yeah, the two had gotten closer over the past few days, but he wasn’t Keith. He didn’t even know if he was allowed to ask Shiro personal questions, or if the man would be comfortable with it.

Shiro doesn’t move. “Shiro?”

The son of Zeus lets out a gush of air that sounds like it’s been held in for way too long. “Just weird, I guess. Here I am, about to play a  - a game – and Matt might still be out there, suffering, or dead, and I don’t remember anything and here I am: doing this.”

“Hey, hey, hey—” Lance cuts in, “No way, man, you know that there’s nothing to be done. You went up to the oracle already" — (which had been when Lance had overheard him and Chiron talk about Allura). “You’ve been kept locked away, somewhere away from everyone you know, facing gods know what, all by yourself. You- you’re still a kid too, Shiro. A kid who didn’t ask for this and deserves some time off.”

Shiro turned around to face him at some point along his spiel, and Lance blushes at the intensity in his gaze. “Lance. . .”

His eyes flicker away to find a corner of the room where it appears that there is an incredibly rusted shield in dire need of being shined. “It’s true. And I think Matt would say the same thing, not that I knew the guy that well. But I am friends with Pidge, who’s also a pretty smart cookie, and I know that’s what she would say.”

A hand plops down on his shoulder that he doesn’t expect, and his lifts his stare to meet Shiro’s proud and watery one. “Thank you, Lance. It’s nice to know I didn’t put my faith in the wrong person when I asked for you to help me.”

He drops his hand after squeezing tightly and grabbing armor to pull on.

Lance coughs. “Oh, um, yeah. Totally. I have the best judgement, the best at many many things, haha. That’s probably why I haven’t been claimed yet. My parent is afraid I’ll outshine them. Your dad will be calling me up and appointing me in their place, obviously, cause like, obviously—”

“Put on your armor, kid.”

Lance entire body relaxes, and he does as Shiro asked, smiling warmly at the other man before they leave for their game.

 

 

 

 

Twenty minutes in and Lance is already wondering why in Hermes’s name he thought he was going to enjoy this.

He’d already lost Shiro and the Ares cabin had cornered him quick and left him weaponless, but he’d managed to escape otherwise unharmed, currently running towards where he thinks Hunk and Pidge are. Their team makes up the blue team, helmets plumed in the color, and Lance swore creatively as he spied red plumage ways away through the trees.

He froze behind the tree he was leaning on. Styx, he needed a plan. One – get a weapon. Two – find Hunk, Pidge, or Shiro. Quite the plan, he thinks, preparing himself to make a run for it soon.

He sneaks a peak over the right side of the tree when he can hear the voices of the enemy team further than they were previously. Double checking it, he deems it clear to keep moving forward.

He _so_ does not expect that someone is waiting to ambush him from the other side of the quite frankly, huge tree trunk. He doesn’t even understand how someone could have snuck up to there without him hearing it.

Before he knows it, he’s knocked to the ground and there’s a body above his, a little too close for comfort and holding a dagger to his throat.

Lance ignores the aching in the back of his head from the fall and blinks his eyes clear. Dark hair falling from a red plumed helmet and sweaty pale skin peeking out from under armor and clothes.

It’s Keith. Curse the gods, of course it is. Curse Ares, Lance swears in his head, promising to himself that if he ever meets the stupid god that brought his rival to life, he’ll have some words with him.

“Oh,” the fellow demigod says. Maybe it’s the proximity, but Lance finds his face easier to read than he ever has before. Keith seems surprised and even a bit disappointed as he continues, “You’re unarmed.”

Lance resists the urge to spit into what turns into a very smug face. Keith puts away the dagger and keeps pressure on Lance’s arms, which are stuck to his side by the other boy’s thighs. Very muscular thighs.

“Apparently so,” the unclaimed boy grunts, fidgeting. “Why are you here, anyway? Aren’t you supposed to be proving to all that you are superior to even Shiro, at this point?”

Keith’s smug expression turns sour. “I haven’t found him yet,” he admits honestly. Then his eyes widen marginally, as if not understanding why he shared that with Lance. Lance is on the same page.

However, the boy’s indigo eyes soon close off again, and he pulls Lance up off the ground by his wrists, securing them behind his back. “Guess I’ll just take you to my side as a prisoner, since you were already pretty useless to your side anyway.”

“Hey, I resent that,” he tries. “I am the least useless person you’ll ever meet.”

Keith makes a noise that might have been a snort, but since Lance can’t see him, will never know. He doesn’t say anything though, which just makes Lance feel awkward, as he really enjoys the white noise conversation provides.

Also, he’s just been captured and is embarrassingly being held prisoner by his rival, who is also an unfairly attractive individual with a dickish personality and is currently _holding him as his prisoner_.  Which, ahem, is pretty hot, let him not forget that the other boy had been straddling him a few minutes ago. Lance doesn’t recall feeling this flushed in his life. Well, maybe the other night, when the harpy caught him with his pants around his legs.

As they walk silently through the woods, Keith taking care to avoid rustlings and sounds that indicate other campers, Lance observes.

The forest looks as it usually does, the Long Island wind making everything come to life and the light from the setting sun making it seem like an epic setting to some fairytale or another. In some ways, it is – Greek gods and all that. The sunset has progressed quite a bit since the game started, and barely a slither of the sun is left. If Lance could look behind him without tripping due to Keith’s inconsiderately fast pace in a root infested forest, he imagines the sky would look regal blue and tinted purple, the moon a slice of light among the not yet appearing stars.  

“It’s nice out,” slips through his lips before he even considers saying it. His blush returns.

Keith doesn’t respond for a moment. “Small talk? Maybe you hit your head too hard,” is all he offers. Lance rolls his eyes. This guy needed a serious punch in the face with some _gusto._ Never mind that he’s hot, Lance is officially over it.

He doesn’t expect for at that moment to hear a shocking boom of thunder, and since Keith lets go of his hands, Lance derives that neither did he. They look at each other.

“Shiro,” they both say, and they start running towards where the boom resonated from.

Turns out, the two ran for nothing, because as they arrived at the scene, a field that had the teams borders down it’s middle, Shiro stood proudly on the Blue’s side of the field, red flag in hand.

Lance chanced a look at Keith, but the boy didn’t even seem bothered by his team’s loss. Everyone cheered (besides the losers), and he mourned the fact he’d missed all the action and that the game had ended so soon. He hadn’t even seen Allura spar.

Curse Keith.

But soon enough, the cheering died to down only for it to appear like there _was_ something wrong.

Shiro drops the flag, and rushes to where a familiar redhead stood. Coran is holding an unconscious Allura, down for the count with no visible wound.

Lance has the nervous impulse to utter a joke: _“You keep pulling this sleeping beauty act and the name is gonna stick, Princess.”_

Keith had already run off from his side, and Lance realizes he should get there too, as he _is_ responsible for Shiro, but Hunk and Pidge run up to him, spilling information.

“It was Shiro’s lightning!” Pidge exclaims, eyes wide and a cut across her cheek.

Hunk has twigs in his hair, but he nods along with Pidge. “Yeah! Like, if you recall, last week Shiro’s sparks brought her to life, and now, she fainted – at least, I hope she fainted—”

“— so they are obviously connected! I hope she’s okay.”

Lance doesn’t know what to say, he thinks he nods, but his mouth is dry.

He hears a call of help from Shiro, and Chiron’s voice booms over all of the campers.

“Congratulations, Blue Team. Everyone injured please report to the infirmary. That is the game, please clear the field and forest and report back to your head counselors.”

Pidge, Hunk and Lance don’t move. Finally, Chiron gallops in front of them to where Allura has collapsed and they run after him.

When they arrive, Allura is still unconscious, and Coran is incredibly confused.

Keith stand next to where Shiro is kneeled, and Chiron stands on all four hooves to Coran’s left.

The son of Apollo has the girl lying half on the grass and half on his lower body. “If she fainted, she should be up by now. Fainting lasts merely a few seconds. I fear that she may fall into sleep again, as we have yet to uncover what put her there in the first place.”

Pidge speaks up. “No, I think Shiro should shock her.”

They all stare at her, minus Hunk.

“What? Pidge, we don’t know what’s wrong with her, and my lightning can seriously hurt someone—”

“Do it,” interrupts Keith. He stares at Shiro. “The birdy’s right. You shocked her to life last time.”

At this, they all turn to look at Chiron, who’s lips are pursed.

“It is worth a try,” the centaur nods, but something about his face gives away he doesn’t entirely buy the idea.

“Do it, Shiro.” Hunk takes a step forward, kneeling next to the son of Zeus. Shiro looks like’s been caught in headlights, indecisive. “I – I think you and Allura are connected somehow. She’d been asleep for months before you arrived. It’ll work.”

Shiro’s hands spark. He nods at Hunk, but surprisingly, spares a second to look at Lance. Lance’s heart is stammering in his chest, but he mouths “ _trust him_ ,” and Shiro does.

He asks Coran to move back, and touches his metal hand to the flesh of Allura’s chest just below her collarbone, where her armor and shirt don’t cover her smooth dark skin. Everyone’s hair stands on end as they feel Shiro call down the power of the sky.

The reaction is immediate and terrifying.

Allura’s eyes open in the same flash of blue that they had when Shiro awoke her the first time, and gold light captures the two of them this time.

Chiron, Coran, Hunk, Pidge, Keith and Lance all turn away. Lance is once again reminded of the true form a god or goddess can take, and clenches his eyes shut, scared for his life.

The light vanishes after a couple of seconds, and they all turn around nearly in unison.

There sit Shiro and Allura, eyes wide and intensely caught in each other’s. It remains quiet for a few more seconds, and Allura is the first to break the silence with her pretty accent, voice serious.

Her sky blue gaze remains frozen to Shiro’s grey one. “My father has ordered I see the oracle. A quest is in order.”

Lance lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

He's an unclaimed kid who could barely make it through twenty minutes of capture the flag. He is totally in the clear. His eyes stray to where Keith stands among them, looking equally shocked by the events.

Although sitting on the ground in front of him are two of the most gorgeous demigods Lance is sure he’d ever meet, the son of Ares is enough to take away his breath.

The wind is sweeping the mullet out of Keith fiery indigo stare, and his entire body is held tight, ready for a fight. He look as though he can’t believe the cards played before him, always angry and always so broody. It makes Lance’s heart beat faster than feeling Shiro’s power strike the ground had.

Lance might be in the clear from going on any world saving quests, but he is so not in the clear for this.

Whatever _this_  is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GAhhhhhh I am sorrry you do not find out Lance's parent until the NEXT chapter =) but i promise you will find out in the next chapter hehe. 
> 
> Also, what do you think? How's it shaping out to be? any future ideas to whats going on, plot wise? It's been so much fun to interwine two of my favorite fandoms tropes, little knick knacks, and universes. 
> 
> Plus!! this will work in the same way the PJO books do in form of POV alteration, so every three chapters it will change POV. I am not sure yet if it will remain purely lance and keith, as some later plot points may require expansion of the pov, but for now you can assume that chps 4-6 will be Keith =)
> 
> PS: yes i know the shance is a little strong in this chap, i do ship them but i promise in this fic its klance all the way only platonic shance =) and i just feel like those two characters really need to support eachother for this fic to work 0.o
> 
> HAVE SUCH A GREAT DAY AND THANKS FOR READING <3<3 please please please tell me what you think it makes my day (dont forget to subscribe for more!!)


	3. Lance Does Not Agree with Demigod Dreams, or, Demigod Anything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He didn’t think it could get worse, but then Shiro came through the doors of the Big House, holding Allura at his side. She looked pale, but she spoke right away, calling everyone’s attention from him for a second.
> 
> “The prophecy—” she began, but slowly stopped, taking in what everyone else was still mesmerized by. Lance’s cheeks got hotter than he thought possible. “.. Oh,” she took in. “Lance, you- you’ve been claimed.”
> 
> Announce it to the world, why don’t you.
> 
> Lance is breathing deeply in hopes he doesn’t pass out. His teeth grind.
> 
> “That much is clear to everyone, yes,” he can’t help but snap, and Chiron sends him a disapproving stare.
> 
> "All Hail, Lance Alejandro Sanchez McClain," Chiron announces. "Son of. . ."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My new chapter update goal is once a month, so I hope yall are ready for a year or so long trip with me. =) All of you are absolutely wonderful, and I cant thank you enough for how happy all your kind words have made me after last chapter. 
> 
> I really really hope this chap doesnt disappoint, but be warned, it's a little all over the place. I read it and rewrote it over ten times, so if there is a blatant continuity error please please tell me. =)
> 
> I had the claiming scene written two hours into startign this fic lol, so, I'm excited. I will explain in the Author's notes below the WHY of the godly parent, for any of yall that might be disappointed/confused. <3
> 
> GOOD LUCK AND FUN READING!!  
> (short minor warning in end notes)

Although Allura is incredibly anxious to get to the oracle right away, Chiron and Coran inform both her and Shiro that they ought to spend a night in the infirmary instead, recovering.

The prophecy would still be there tomorrow.

Lance and Keith both reach for Shiro at the same time as he’d tried to hoist himself up and failed, falling back on his golden arm so that he didn’t hit the ground hard. Shiro waves them both off, but Keith insists, grabbing Shiro’s good arm and pulling him up.

Rolling his eyes, Lance takes a step back. Shiro’s expression is grimmer than it had ever been before in Lance’s presence. He has every right to be pissed, Lance can’t imagine how he must feel. Back from a quest that left him armless, with no memory, and no Matt – only to discover there is a new prophecy now? Which he is mostly likely to be a part of?

Lance didn’t envy the life of a kid of the Big Three. Zeus, Poseidon, or worse, Hades? They were rare kids and the most unlucky. The last known Poseidon kid had died not too long before Lance had been born, luckily a little older than most demigods, but dead young either way.

He watches as Shiro is helped up and away, Coran trailing him and Keith with Allura in arm. Her jeans are grass stained, he notices, and her blinding white hair is up. Now was not the time to admire her beauty, he reprimands himself.

Chiron clears his throat, addressing Pidge, Hunk and himself.

His voice is soft. “I suggest the three of you also get some rest. Lance, you are invited to join us in the counselor meeting I will announce for tomorrow evening where Allura will visit the Oracle.”

Lance senses more than actually sees Pidge tense up angrily beside him. “Thanks,” he says, just as the shorter girl speaks her mind.

“Chiron, please. I have to be at that meeting! What if Allura finds something out about my brother? Or if Shiro remembers something? I have—”

“Child, I’m sorry,” the centaur replies. “Lance is only invited as part of his punishment, and you should know better than most that if anything at all were to come up that would help us find your brother, you will be the first to know. If you must have something to do, then please, if you will, work on some of your inventions and weapons with Hunk. I’m sure those that are chosen to go on the quest will be needing them.”

Pidge is not impressed with the man’s rational proposal. “Chiron!”

Hunk stops her from continuing to plead with their camp director with a soft hand to her shoulder. “Come on, Pidge. You know he’s right.”

Lance ends up walking them back to their cabins. The sky looks just as regal as Lance had pictured it while Keith was holding him prisoner, if not more so. The stars are shining brilliantly like they do on most summer nights at camp Half-Blood the moos is a slice of light that creates shadows behind them. It also illuminates the cabins a head of them, still some walking to go from the field.

“Pidge, I’ll talk to Shiro tomorrow morning, okay? I’ll make sure he knows to talk to you after the meeting. And I’ll tell you guys everything that goes down, I promise,” Lance puts on his responsible adult voice and everything, but it doesn’t seem to budge the Athena girl.

“We know you will, bud. Gotta admit though, I’m sort of excited to be given some sort of encouragement to keep working on our weapons, Pidge. Do you remember the last time that happened?”

Hunk was talking to Pidge, but Lance remembers. The red capture the flag team Lance had luckily not been a part of that game had been all good and dandy until all the armor Pidge and Hunk had modified to make the wearer invisible for small burst of time had overheated and blown up, not injuring anyone but covering both teams alike in mysterious green goo. The two responsible had been on dish duty for the whole month, afterwards. Lance had laughed his ass off, and then some. Up until he’d been caught fooling around with one of the healers from the Apollo cabin in the big house supply closet and been given the same punishment.

At least the three had had plenty of time to bond.

(Why Oliver from Apollo hadn’t been punished as intensely had brought on a three-week spree of constantly making points to why Apollo healers had more privileges than other campers and how unfair it all was until Oliver had overheard and creatively shut him up of course, but still.)

Pidge doesn’t reply. Her hair, which had grown out a good amount since she cut it right after her brother had disappeared, swings moodily in its ponytail as she steps ahead of them.

Lance drops his height a bit to lean with his left arm on her shoulder as they walk. He motions his hands in an outwards explosive gesture. “ _Ka-splash_!”

That gets her to smile. Hunk laughs loudly and takes a larger step so he can be slightly in front of them. “More like, _bla-blaough_!”

His gestures are even grander and funkier, and Lance starts laughing. It’s what finally seems to get Pidge out of her justified poor mood.

“The both of you are idiots. It was obviously _glch-glaaaw!_ ”

Her shorter arms come up to fully explode from the sky and reign down, and she spins as she does it. Now both he and Hunk are really laughing.

“Yeah, sure, Pigeon,” Lance calls her the nickname he’d given her when she told him her godly parent. (“Athena’s the one with owls, right?” “Yes, they’re very intelligent birds.” “But your name is Pidge, right?” “My nickname, yes.” “So, um,” he giggled, “does that make you a pigeon?” She hit him. Lance was not well liked by her when she first met him.) “If you say so.”

Hunk pushes at his shoulder when Pidge turns to glare at him, mouth open and unbelieving of his behaviour. Lance puts on his best innocent face. She messes up the glare with a shine of grinning teeth, and then they’re all laughing once more, near to tears.

It’s how tired they are, Lance knows. It’s the weight in his stomach as he remembers it’s been a week since he’d had the traitorous hope that his parent might claim him as a response to his new found meaning at camp. It’s the fact Shiro is back after a year and some, Keith for almost as long, and Matt still gone. It’s how his insides feel when he thinks of a certain son of Ares for too long. It’s the feeling that they’re laughing on stolen time – that just as quickly as the capture the flag game was able to go from fun and games to thunder and oracles, so will this summer.

Lance is almost positive he’s safe from going on any quests. It’d be stupid – he’s unclaimed and an average fighter. But it’s be stupid not to be worried for his friends – for Pidge, Hunk, and now Shiro, maybe even a little for Keith. And yet, he can’t make peace with the idea of the quest, and what it might mean. What would happen if he _were_ to go. What would happen if he _didn’t_ go.

He needs to chill. There hasn’t even been a quest announced yet.

“Oh my gods,” says Hunk, voice airy but still holding way too much meaning for Lance’s state of mind. “What are we going to do?”

“We wait until this string beam finishes being our eyes and ears tomorrow night and then we make a plan,” Pidge says, also over her laughter and sounding even more mature then she always is for her age.

Lance sends a Hunk a look over the girl’s head. What is Pidge on about?

“Wait, wait, wait – a plan for what? I haven’t agreed to anything yet.”

The cabins are closer now. Lance sees the lights on in the Athena cabin, the small owl-adorned black flag that’s been hanging in the wind from their porch for over ten months when they had started to give up hope of ever finding their brother. He remembers explaining to Shiro why there had been a similar one adorning his cabin door. Speaking of when Chiron had given up, telling them there was nothing else they could do – no quest had been issued.

Keith had already been gone by then, gone by the second week neither Shiro or Matt were replying to any Iris messages.

The trio stops before the stairs to Pidge’s cabin, where the sounds of her siblings getting ready for bed and commemorating the win can be heard.

Lance takes a deep breath, still awaiting his answer. Both him and Hunk are watching Pidge closely as she stands there, eyes undoubtedly on the small flag on the porch.

“A plan to find my brother,” she says. “I’m saving Matt.”

 

 

 

In the dream, Lance is holding his breath.

He doesn’t know why, as he can’t figure out where he is.

Little fragments of memories bombard him, but he realizes they aren’t his own.

He can hear thunder, and he can feel wood under his palms. He’s very cold, and very wet. There is fire in the peripherals of his vision. All around him are sensations – loud and overwhelming.

There’s water, he can recognize that. It’s splashing and the waves are huge, ferocious and unstoppable. He’s surrounded by it, hands gripping painfully at splintering wood that had once made up his ship as he’s dunked and submerged relentlessly.

Wait.

He’d been on a ship – yes. Calm water one moment and torrents of rain and wind the next. The sky had darkened viciously and then the crew had started panicking, because it wasn’t safe to travel under a storm – especially one with white streaks of electricity raining down to the sea and creating booms and waves that could rival a tantrum from Poseidon.

Wait – is it possible? Might this be Poseidon, god of the seas and earthquakes, attempting to kill him and his family?

“Mother,” he calls out with no control of his actions. There is no reply. He feels adrenaline rushing to every end of his body and in a moment of what might be bravery but may also be stupidity lets go of the floating wooden surface he is on.

Stupidity, the memories in his head imply, had been the source of the action. The waves over take him immediately and he is pulled down. He has a moment of clarity under the water – it is quiet. There’s a ship in the water with him – beautiful and large and sinking.

Lance is holding his breath. He needs to swim. He needs to find Mother. He doesn’t know where in New York he will find the camp, or how far they are from the shore of America.

He doesn’t know a lot of things and it scares him. Why is the lord of the sea mad at him and his family? Why is he being punished potentially for his father’s actions? Why are the gods upset?

_Apollo, help me. Father, tell me what I must do. Let me succeed as your Champion._

There is no response. Lance is fighting desperately for the surface but never breaking into air for more than a few seconds.

Something knocks into his head, and his sea salt assaulted vision goes even blurrier. _This is the end_ , he thinks. There is a grip on his ankle, and he is pulled under further, the boat no longer anywhere in his darkening vision.

In a last attempt at life – at understanding – he shakes his leg as hard as he can, but all he manages in to make the dress he is wearing rise up around him in the water. There’s hair in his face, long and untangling itself from the bun it was in.

The grip holds. It tightens.

Then it lets go.

A grip on his face is next.

Everything is tinged red from the faraway flames and storm, but this figure is almost invisible in the waves, blue and blue and blue.

Lance feels breath come into his lungs almost by magic, and the grip is gone. He should be sinking, but he’s not.

Instead of dying there, as he obviously was fated to, he knows that doesn’t. That instead, somehow, he was dragged hallway across the Atlantic and rescued on the shores of Camp Half Blood.

 _Thank you, Apollo_.

His eyes close against his will, and Lance wakes up.

 

 

 

Lance tears the sheets off his shirtless body and trips out of his bunk. He knows he’s being loud amongst the sleeping children of Hermes, but he feels soaked in sweat and he _has_ to get some fresh air. He feels as though he might puke. If he does, he wonders what would come up – his dinner or sea water.

Once he’s outside, door shut behind him, he grabs the worn wooden rail of the Hermes Cabin porch so tightly it reminds him of the way he’d held onto the wooden piece of the ship before letting go.

No. He hadn’t held that board. Someone else had.

He still felt the sea water churning all around him and wished desperately that the cool night air against his skin would dry the sweat.

After a moment of deliberation, Lance mentally tells the rules to go fuck themselves, and goes back into his cabin to grab a shirt. Three in the morning or not – he can’t go back to bed.

He skips down the steps and speed walks past all the other cabins, not paying them any mind. He only stares at the glittering grass his feet are about to crush with each step. He doesn’t know where he’s going until he’s stepping onto the wooden pier at the Camp’s small lake.

Why he chose to come back to what he’d found himself traumatically pulled and pushed at by the dream, he doesn’t know. Or maybe he does.

His entire being feels like its on a cursed sea-saw – about to slip off one edge but blind folded and completely unaware as to when he’ll fall off. Lance has never been complimented for his balance, as it often got his weapon knocked out of his hand.

As he catches sight of his reflection in the water – blurred tan skin and brown hair and features brought down in a frown – he knows the downfall of the ship in his dream had been a god’s doing.

The water ripples suddenly. A water spirit, female and pretty like most nature spirits, smiles at him through his reflection. He doesn’t have the heart to not let the corners of his lips rise slightly in an attempt to smile back. Lance has always been a people pleaser – able to put on an act.

He notices she’s a bit more distinguishable then the other naiads Lance has met before (read: flirted with). There is a braided tiara of seaweed and her luscious curls done up nicely on her head, and she has glittering water droplet freckles on her cheeks.

He kneels down on the dock. The naiad comes closer to the surface – something in her smile makes him suspect she already knows what he’s pondering. The balancing act that’s got him on edge.

Hesitating, Lance asks her the same question he had wondered in the dream. The one he hopes to the gods that she can answer, that she had appeared to him to answer.

His words are barely audible, quiet, and yet, they feel too loud on the lakeshore, the entire camp asleep. “Did he- did he do it? Was Poseidon respo—?”

A watery hand reaches out almost immediately and covers his lips.

“Shhhh…” the naiad whispers back to him. He wonders what her name is, shocked she answered and  much more that her hand is on his face. He remains quiet when she lets him go.

The water spirit’s minute shake of her dripping curls sends a shiver of anxiety down Lance’s entire being. Vomiting is starting to sound more likely than before. 

He takes a moment to blink, breathing out slowly. When he opens his eyes, she has already started her descent back into the lake, having done her intended job. Immediately, Lance knows that the dream he had had been shown to him purposefully by someone; he had a pretty good idea of who that someone was.

“Wait!” he calls for her, but she merely sends him a wink as her entire being becomes invisible once more – a part of the water, blue and blue and blue.

Lance reaches to splash his hand in irritation. Stands afterwards, wanting to shout and yell. He has more questions now than before. Why is this happening to him? Was it because he’d been the one that had done it? Played the hero?

Shiro had explained that he admired Lance because the teen never came across as bitter to the gods, even after all they’ve taken from him – his family, his confidence, his right to fit in with the other campers and have a new family.

 _Fuck you!_ He projects to the sky, cursing how beautiful Zeus’s realm looks. _I don’t deserve this!_

Lance has never felt as bitter as he does in this moment, knowing and not understanding what he’s supposed to do with this information – with what the naiad had told him. Not that he had been _told_ much of anything.

He stares off onto where the lake ends and the shore of the Atlantic begins. To where the sky’s brother resides, probably laughing his ass off as the stupid unclaimed demigod figures out what the hell his message implies. Lance looks away.

His reflection stares back at him once the water settles from his previous outburst. He stands, wanting to get away from it – away from himself.

He takes up back towards the cabins, but passes them once more. He enters the med bay quietly, and isn’t disappointed by what he sees.

Shiro is there, sleeping off the day’s exhaustion and events. But he isn’t what is making Lance’s heart stammer in his chest or his hands shake. No, the reason for why he feels like he could still puke lies in the bed across from Shiro’s.

Lance slumps into the chair next to that same bed, determined not to get up until he can talk about what he saw – what he dreamed.

Because in that dream, he hadn’t been Lance Alexandro Sanchez McClain.

Lance sure doesn’t have long white hair or wear dresses or have Apollo as a father (not that he could be sure).

But the girl in the bed does. The one wearing tie dye from the 70’s and who’s eyelids flutter as if she is caught in a dream, unable to escape it just like Lance isn’t able to get her off his mind. The girl who had survived drifting through half the Atlantic Ocean before Lance found her. The girl who might be terribly mistaken on who had caused her to wash up here – who had _not_ made an attempt on her life and family.

 _He didn’t do it, Allura_. _Poseidon wasn’t responsible for what happened to you. I don’t know who is._

But Lance has a feeling that the prophecy Allura will get hours from now, the quest that will be lead as a result – that’s where the answers are.

And this dream he’s had - Lance prays to all the gods, the same ones he’d told off earlier, that it doesn’t happen again. The demigods who start having dreams of memories that aren’t their own? Those are the demigods who go on quests.

And Lance was _not_ going on any quests. He couldn’t.

Exhausted and feeling drained, Lance’s eyes close against his will and he falls into deep sleep.

 

 

 

There’s light coming in from somewhere. The way it’s hitting Lance’s face is entirely annoying. So entirely annoying, as he feels like it’s burning a whole through him, that he quits trying to sleep.

Disoriented but still sleepy, he turns over a bit in his spot to see if maybe he could escape the sunlight

—and falls off the chair he fell asleep in last night and onto the cold marble floor of the infirmary.

Which would explain the annoying amounts of filtered sunlight, as the Apollo cabin is the one who runs the infirmary.

“Fuck," he breathes out, trying to wet his mouth enough that he doesn’t feel like he’s chewing on a cotton ball.

“Lance?” Someone asks, and Lance settles himself from where he was ass up on the floor.

Immediately upon seeing who his company was, he jumps to his feet and brushes his clothes down. It’s a lost cause, as the camp shirt that he’d pulled on the night before (or rather this morning) is both backwards and inside out, and his sweatpants are slung low on his hips. Lance doesn’t even want to think about how his hair looks.

“Keith! What are you doing here?" he says, probably a bit too loudly for how early it is that Shiro is still asleep. Which means its probably just before seven in the morning, as the man seems to always wake up at 7 on the dot – like clockwork.

“You look like Hades,” is the response Keith blesses him with.

Lance rearranges himself to put his hands on his hips, ready to give Keith a piece of his mind. “ _You_ look like Hades.”

Keith is unimpressed. Lance deflates a bit, considering that he probably shouldn’t have tried to out do Keith after such a rough night.

“Why are you here?” Keith asks him, obviously uncaring that Lance had asked him the exact same thing first. Lance might still be a bit drowsy, because Keith almost looks concerned. “Did something happen?"

Of course. All Keith cares about is his precious Shiro. “What’s it to you if something did, boar breath?"

The brunette smiled as Keith’s face twitched. One good insult in – and one that hit right in the godly parent jackpot. All he needed now was some breakfast and about two other hours of sleep and he’d be dandy.

And, oh right, to talk to Allura.

Keith’s eyes narrowed. “Just because I’m not goofing around all the time being useles—”

“Keith?”

Add Shiro to the group of people Lance constantly thanks the gods for.

“Lance? What are you guys doing here? Did something happen?”

Or maybe not. At the son of Zeus’s (Lance will admit, legitimate) inquiry, Keith turns on one hip to send Lance the most pointed and smug sneer (and biggest show of emotion he’s seen from him that isn’t irritation or anger). Like: _suck it, Lance, you’re gonna answer my question anyway._

Lance is glad that Keith isn’t the type to actually say something like that out loud, as his response might have been questionable. _You wish I was doing the sucking._

He stammers to reply to Shiro, cheeks flushed. “Hey, buddy! Um, yeah. I mean – no! Nothing like, bad, happened, just I, um, have got to talk to Allura? You know, make a good impression on the pretty lady, maybe get a smooch or two, just your typical Lance stuff. Totally.”

“And you decided to try this with your shirt on inside out _and_ backwards?” Keith decides to add completely unnecessarily. Shiro seems to agree with his friend though, and Lance throws his hands in the air.

 “I will have you know, I am starting a new era of fashion. Trends and fads that will never fade. Ever. Aphrodite will be jealous.”

All of them are silent. Lance’s face is warmer than he would prefer, but there’s not much he can do but continue to dig himself into the hole he decided to bury himself in.

“Okay, then!” Lance grabs onto Shiro’s non-metallic arm, moving towards him and helping him out of bed, where he’d sat up after waking. “You two should go get breakfast, have a lovely little bonding session while I get caught up with sunshine over here. A year is a long time to not see each other, you know. Maybe see if you still remember each other’s favorite colour! Bye!”

The both of them look reluctant (not to mention looking at Lance like he is absolutely _insane_ ), but Lance pushes them out anyway, knowing he’ll have to answer to Shiro later. Either way, Coran would be here soon, and he needed to talk to Allura alone.

“Okay, princess,” Lance nicknames her, remembering the meaning of her last name. _Royal._ Royally bad luck, more like it. She lost her family and everyone she knew. “Time to talk to Lancey Lance.”

 

 

 

Afterwards, sitting at breakfast, Lance feels much more emotionally constipated than he did before, if it‘s possible. It’s as though by getting it off his chest, he felt obligated to act like his bubbly, okay, self again.

And it had the opposite affect.

At least he doesn’t feel like he might puke up the entire Atlantic Ocean anytime soon.

He waves at Hunk as he sits in the Hephaestus table a couple ways from the Hermes table. Smiles at Pidge, although the girl just sticks her tongue out at him. Pats Shiro on the back where he sits all by himself at the Zeus table before taking a seat. Smiles shyly at Allura – who’s eyes are glazed over in thought.

She still looks a little suspicious.

_“Did Poseidon set you up to this? Are you his son? Is that why you’re still unclaimed? To be used like a puppet by the gods as if—"_

_“No! Stop it, Allura! You don’t even know me! Why would I lie?”_

_“You’re right! I do not know you, and until you give me a reason to believe the lies you are saying—"_

_“I swear, okay? I swear to the_ River Styx _that I don’t know who my parent is! That this is a dream I had, and that I’m not lying!”_

Yeah, some of that conversation could have gone better. Swearing to the River Styx was a really big thing, and while Lance knew he’d been telling the truth, he felt like that would stop the gods he’d told to fuck off earlier from smiting him. Eventually though, Allura and Lance had stopped yelling at each other just in time for Coran to enter.

Lance gets up after wishing his food onto his plate to make an offering to the gods. At this point, any luck he could get from any of them would be great. As he walks, passing the rambunctious Ares table, even so early in the morning, Keith gets up.

Ugh, Lance should have expected this.

Somewhere though, in the back of his mind, he acknowledges how pleased he is that the other boy is paying him any attention. Ever since they’d both arrived at Camp, there’d been this shadow over Lance, and even after Keith left, the shadow remained – acknowledging that as long as Lance didn’t fit in at camp, didn’t have a _thing_ , he was stuck there, lesser than Keith.

Keith noticing him meant the shadow wasn’t as dark or looming as it seemed sometimes. Or maybe it was. Maybe Keith was acknowledging him to put him further into the shadow.

Because now, he thinks of Keith, and he can hear Hunk from all those summers ago. _What’s so great about the guy, Lance? To be honest, you’re a little obsessed. You sure you don’t have a crush on him or anything?_

Ugh. It isn’t Lance’s fault the boy had only grown into his sharper features and messy hair.

Indigo eyes meet blue for a split second, before both boys make their sacrifices.

Keith is still at his side when Lance is done mentally praying to pretty much the entire known list of Greek gods.

“You were acting stupider than usual, earlier,” the Ares boy states, tongue swiping his lower lip.

Forget any of the miracles of puberty. Honestly, Lance can probably say for sure he is not a child of Athena. If he was, he’d have remembered to not expect Keith to be nice, or sensitive, or anything mildly pleasurable. Lance doesn’t want to deem him with a response, but the intense emotions from talking to Allura demand to be unleashed, in one way or another.

“And you’re acting just as stupid as usual, now.”

Keith scoffs, and the mildly amused action surprises Lance. He looks like he might say more, but Chiron calls for an announcement. Mr. D, who is at breakfast this morning shockingly enough, with what Lance is pretty sure is still a morning cup of Coke in hand despite the time, stands to talk to the barely awake half-bloods.

“This evening, the more responsible of you dimwits are to meet in the Big House for a meeting. Leeroy McCormick, Kurt Colgate, and the Apollo Princess are also mandated to join. Continue mindlessly eating your feelings if this doesn’t apply to you and have a horrible day.”

Lance snorts after the dining hall fills with sound again, sneering at Keith. “Looks like Chiron still pities you enough to let you follow Shiro around like a lost puppy, _Colgate_.”

That seems to strike with Keith in a way that Lance’s other comments since Keith got back had not been able to. As the boy’s face leans higher up and closer to his own, Lance feels a sense of déjà-vu. “Better to follow him around than to do _nothing_ , like the whole lot of you did.”

“Are you referring to what I think you’re referring to?” He spits down to Keith, unbelieving how far he was taking a simple jab. “When Shiro disappeared, there was nothing we could do! If a demigod doesn’t come back form a quest, most of the time, its cause their dead!”

Keith turned away momentarily to finger point at Shiro across the dining area, also putting his plate down on a nearby table. “Well, Shiro doesn’t look dead to me!”

His rather loud remark alerts the dining area to their conversation, but Lance doesn’t care.

He puts his own plate down on the table behind him, an Aphrodite boy turning around in his seat to watch the commotion wide eyed.

“We looked, okay? And some of us didn’t go running away with their tail between their legs! We supported each other.”

Someone clears their throat. There’s a movement of orange and green in the peripheral of his vision, but Keith’s next words make his vision tunnel.

“As if you could last a day outside of this camp on your own. It’s a joke that they’ve got you looking out for Shiro.”

Lance steels himself. This type of argument between them had been so common back in the day, but always about mindless things. Disagreements in Greek mythology class, a bit of rough housing taken too far by a smug and cocky Keith, and even some general picking on Lance because he was unclaimed the first few months he’d been here – when it was still fresh.

But Keith had no idea what Lance had to do to get to camp, had no idea what Lance went through trying to get here. How his family had suffered – how Lance had suffered. Keith had always bragged about being taken care of by his father on his trip to camp, and his childhood – with his precious dagger that was a gift, and his fingerless gloves that turned into sword and shield on command. 

“Oh, go to Hades,” he says, his eyes cutting into Keith’s venomously. For a second Keith’s eyes shatter from their cold stare, almost regretful, but Lance does not care. “Go take a dip in the Styx and take your better than everyone else attitude with you, boar face.”

Keith doesn’t back down. His mouth turns down attractively, as if teasing Lance with his anger.

“Godly parent insults – original – too bad you’re so useless your godly parent doesn’t even want you.”

Silence.

The entire hall is silent, and Lance can now see clearly again. The lack of sound in his ears has cleared up his other senses. Chiron is standing on all fours, having gotten up from his seat in the front of the hall, and Pidge and Hunk have moved to the Athena table to be closer. Allura is peering over heads intensively, her eyes startlingly blue across the crowd of onlookers in orange.

“Keith,” Shiro says disappointedly from not too far away, and Lance can’t even feel a little victorious that Shiro is on his side, somehow just to his left, grey eyes dark with storm clouds.

Swallowing down the lump in his throat, Lance looks right into Keith’s stare as he speaks one last time, out loud to the entire room.

“You’re a real great guy, Keith, just like your dad. Ares would be proud.”

Walking out of the dining room, his stomach grumbles but he ignores it. His hunger and self worth can go to Hades right along with Keith.

The shadow is back and darker than ever, but, Lance thinks, looking up to the sky and to the gods above, at least he hadn’t punched Keith in the face.

 

 

 

Lance is an hour late to the counselor meeting he’d been specifically included to. No one says anything when he shows up, which is weird in the first place, because everyone is still there?

Pidge had convinced Lance to still attend, hunting Lance down at the armory, where he’d been hiding away with the abandoned gear, trying to just fit in.

Gods, he’s pitiful.

Lance sits next to Rolo, who looks so bored he may just start trying to steal the huge pig face on the wall behind Dionysus’s usual seat. Not that Lance cares of course, but Keith is sat completely across the room. He tries not to notice how the other boy’s eyes are tracking him.

Shiro tries to send a smile Lance’s way, but Lance hasn’t felt like genuinely smiling since about 3:00 AM this morning, and for once doesn’t try to fake it for the other’s sake.

Cut him some slack, he was called useless in front of the entire camp. Lance urges himself to not to let his blood boil at the reminder. As a distraction, he looks to Rolo for explanation.

“Allura’s been upstairs since almost right after dinner, and she hasn’t come down yet. Chiron is making us wait here.” The dirty blonde smiles kindly at Lance, which isn’t the most commonly seen look on the counselor of the Hermes cabin, but does cheer him up a teensy tiny bit. “Hope you brought your readings, it doesn’t look like we’ll be getting out of here anytime soon.”

“Great,” he utters, lying his head in his arms and hoping the bored mood of the room will put him to sleep.

 

 

 

He awakes eventually, and there is less light out the windows. Also, quite a lesser number of counselors still left in the room. Rolo is gone, but Shiro, Keith, Coran, and three others are still there.

A hand lands on his shoulder. “My boy, you’ve fell asleep an hour ago,” Chiron informs him. “The others are preparing for campfire.”

Lance nods at him. He’s still tired, feeling like there’s cotton balls in his ears. “The princess still upstairs?” he mumbles.

Coran answers. “It has been two hours and counting now, almost. If only Apollo were the god of time, I’d make this whole thing go a few ticks faster.”

“Oh,” he says, feeling disappointed. And agitated. What was taking so long? All Lance wants is for the prophecy to be revealed simply so he can relax once all the claimed and useful demigods were chosen to go on the quest.

There is nothing to it but to wait, so that’s what he does.

Lance taps his leg absentmindedly under the table, until Keith glares him still. Lance doesn’t even bother looking at him a second longer, and turns around in his chair to face Shiro, who is much nicer and way better to look at. Honestly, what was Keith’s deal? He was only here cause Chiron good will, which after the stuff he’d said to Lance at breakfast? Must be much further spread than Lance would have thought.

Fuck what Keith had said.

Shiro was Lance’s responsibility, not Keith’s.

Whatever.

Lance stood up. Suddenly, the room felt stuffy. “I’m going to go find Pidge,” he says, thinking on his feet on why he needs to leave. They stare at him blankly, Mr. D waving a coke filled wine glass at him in dismissal. “So, yeah, I’ll be back.”

Shiro will be fine. He’d been fine the whole day where Lance had hidden away in self-pity, and this wouldn’t be much different. The older demi-god barely turned away from where he stared up the attic stairs as Lance announced his exit.

He leaves.

Allura will still be there when he gets back.

He’ll go find Pidge, he tells himself. It’s barely light still, and most of the campers are surrounding the fire pit. Most of the time head counselor meetings don’t happen during campfire, but this was a pretty special exception. Hermes, half the time Lance wasn’t even allowed at the meetings, even as with his favorite status.  

Lance walks toward the fire pit, the summer breeze actually chilly for once. The nymphs must be having a party or something.  He digs his fists into the pockets of his jacket as he walks the short way to where Pidge is among some of her siblings. She’s donning a large green hoodie over what he assumes is her orange camp shirt. Her knee length khaki’s are stained with grease and probably other things Lance doesn’t really want to know about.

Some of the other half-bloods stare at him as he walks past, but he just puts his face in deeper to his collar to ignore him. It’s not he first time he’s been a center of attention at camp – positively or negatively – and it won’t be the last.

The daughter of Athena looks particularly down tonight, hands resting against her face as she sits on a log, but that makes sense. Shiro shows up but has no memory of where her brother is and can’t recall where he even escaped from? Chiron not letting her in the meeting? The whole entire mess she’s planning on getting herself into, to save her brother? It’s shitty, and Lance is a little mad at himself he couldn’t be there for her the last week or so, other than last night.

She’d been there for him earlier, when she dragged him out of the weapons room by force, so he owed her.

He decides to change that now. His problems aren’t above anyone else’s, after all, even less that they mostly consist of pettily wanting to be claimed and nervously trying to decipher how he feels about Keith (currently? Entirely and totally hates the guy, what an ass.). Lance plasters on a smile, ready to cheer her up a bit, maybe make a joke about how the meeting was pretty lame anyway, and is about to sit down on the log next to Pidge when he hears a scream from the big house.

Oh Styx. Allura. That cannot be good.

Why must one bad thing after another keep happening to him?

Lance is up straight as rod in a millisecond, goosebumps along his bronze skin. Blue eyes dart around to all the other demigods who have fallen quiet in shock and fear, but Lance is tense like a wire and ready to run back to the big house.

He’s about to, mind the staring campers, but something stops him.

The chills he’s getting in response to Allura’s scream change. Something in the pit of his stomach drops, and Lance can’t help trying to make himself feel smaller. Something is happening to him, but he has no idea what.

Gods.

Almost one by one, everyone who is standing around him turn their eyes to look at him in a daze, and Lance is so beyond freaked out he stands there petrified.

What in gods’ name are they staring at? Why isn’t anyone running towards the big house? He puts his hands to his face, but he feels familiar with everything. Lance swallows the fears that he is mutating into some sort of hairy beast in front of the entire camp, to be slain by Keith’s sword.

Allura lets out another shout, this one quieter, but everyone barely glances a look towards the big house.

What is going on?

The campers began to speak up around him, murmurs and whispers that become shouts and conversation too overlapped to understand anything from. Lance manages to twist around in place, finding Pidge again, but she’s wide eyes and whispers with her cabinmates just along with the rest of them.

Lance focuses on her gaze. He thanks the gods she doesn’t look scared – maybe in awe, actually. Okay, seriously though, what the Hades?

He is now facing the Big House fully, so he sees Keith, Coran, Chiron, and the rest of the head counselors emerge onto the front porch, crowding the area more than it should ever be crowded. Hunk is there too, maybe having come from the kitchens.

Only Hunk, Keith, and Chiron leave the porch, jogging the short distance over to him. He doesn’t see Allura or Shiro due to smoke darkening his vision, and okay, Lance is officially freaked out right now.

What is happening to him? Where did this smoke come from?

“Lance!” he heard Hunk exclaim, “Lance, it’s happening!”

“What is? Oh my gods, what is that smell?” he coughs, and the smoke starts to clear as quickly as it appeared. Hunk is almost touching him now, honey brown eyes stuck on something above him.

 _Everyone’s_ eyes were focused above him, Lance notices. Even Keith’s. 

He swallows, taking a look for himself.

At first, he has no idea why there looks to be pink neon sign above his head, doesn’t even register what the image projected is, until he realizes.

He’s being claimed.

A pink dove with flowers in its beak seems to fly above him just long enough for him to distinguish it before it fades out of existence once and for all.

And Styx, his godly parent just claimed him.

He’s been claimed.

No more sitting with he Hermes cabin, or having a general camp schedule, or crying himself to bed feeling _so_ alone, or worrying about who he sleeps with because that could be his sibling, or feeling like a disappointment to his godly parent, and – and

No more sitting around in Keith’s shadow – in the shadow he’s been stuck in since he got to this camp.

But wait.

His parent is. . . Aphrodite? The goddess who stands for love, and beauty, and lust?

The first real feeling he registers in himself that isn’t totally overwhelming relief and confusion is disappointment, but it doesn’t last long, as soon, he’s overwhelmed with humiliation.

His inner panic had shielded him from noticing what his mother had done to him.

He is no longer wearing his jacket. In fact, it seemed like he was no longer wearing much of anything, which frankly, the weather at the moment was not adept for.

There were gold bracelets on his biceps, and he could feel the weight of a golden wreath in his hair. He was wearing a toga of sorts… but damn, the thing was skimpy. He felt a breeze between his legs that should so not be there.

Draped across one shoulder and lined with blue markings, the toga fell across his left chest and was secured by a golden belt around his waist, the rest of the fabric forming a skirt that barely made it to his knees.

Nearly his entire chest was in the nude, and the gold entailed sandals he now wore made his toes chilly.

His hand goes up to his hair to feel for the wreath, but it catches on something hanging from his ear. A small hoop, he guesses in gold, is hanging from a brand new and already healed piercing in his left ear. His mouth is dry.

He feels _so_ exposed, and for someone who has been caught with his pants between his ankles more than once (unfortunately so), that was saying something. 

“Aphrodite’s blessing!” one kid called out, and Lance has half the mind to turn and snap at him, like _No, really? I hadn’t noticed._

He didn’t think it could get worse, but then Shiro came through the doors of the Big House, holding Allura at his side. She looked pale, but she spoke right away, calling everyone’s attention from him for a second.

“The prophecy—” she began, but slowly stopped, taking in what everyone else was still mesmerized by. Lance’s cheeks got hotter than he thought possible. “.. Oh,” she took in. “Lance, you- you’ve been claimed.”

Announce it to the world, why don’t you.

Lance is breathing deeply in hopes he doesn’t pass out. His teeth grind.

“That much is clear to everyone, yes,” he can’t help but snap, and Chiron sends him a disapproving stare that doesn’t disguise the traces of pity Lance can easily spot in his eyes.

"All Hail, Lance Alejandro Sanchez McClain," Chiron announces. "Son of Aphrodite, lady of the doves, goddess of love."

Lance blushes darker. He wants to leave. He takes a step forward, and trips on his toga.

Hunk catches him. “Woah, dude! It finally happened! You were claimed! Always knew you were a charmer.” His best friend winks at him, and Lance steps away from his friend to take a look around at the crowd.

Hunk wasn’t kidding.

Half the people in the camp, besides probably his newfound siblings, were watching him in wonder. A lot of them were blushing, but Lance saw jealousy amongst a lot of them. The Ares cabin was sneering, a little too red in the face for anger to be all of what they were thinking about, and the Hermes kids were smiling proudly, probably happy to get rid of him. 

One Apollo girl takes a step towards him, like she wants to say something, but her friend pulls her back and they start silently yelling at each other.

Yikes.

He really is a child of Aphrodite, he realizes. No other type of demigod could have this type of affect on such a large crowd.

He clears his throat. “I guess.”

Keith is walking forward quickly to where Hunk and Lance stand. What does he want? Pidge is still frozen, staring at her friend in shock. Lance would usually be over confident in this type of situation, cocky, but all he felt was scared. And cold. And honestly, a bit exposed. He clears his throat to urge the knot starting there to stop.

This wasn’t what he wants.

No one cares about Aphrodite kids. Yeah, they are pretty, but toss them in battle and most of the time they run away screaming or say no thank you, claiming a mani pedi is a better use of their time.

Lance blinks away his thoughts. He feels tears welling up in his eyes, but he refuses to shed them in front of everyone.

It was just all so confusing.

More confusing, however, is the hand that lands on his bare arm.

Keith’s.

“Come on,” he urges Hunk and Lance, “let’s go inside. People are staring.”

Lance has half a mind to punch the guy in the face.

Keith doesn’t let go of him, but he doesn’t make direct eye contact either.

Lance studies him, aware the entire camp is holding it’s breath. Why was he being nice? He notices Keith eyeing the people around them sharply. Maybe he’s jealous? No, that wouldn’t be it.

Either way, he doesn’t move.

The two Apollo girls are still bickering, every so often sending him a hungry look.

“Seriously, let’s go, they look like they wouldn’t mind eating you for breakfast. Come on.”

 _Oh_. He’s being protective.

Which isn’t any less confusing, but what he said is true. Lance is being eyed like a new snack Ramsey Gordon just cooked up. He does a double take at the unfairly calm son of Ares, but accepts, letting Keith guide him out of there, Hunk right next to him.

Dressed like this, Lance doesn’t really _want_ to go anywhere without Hunk.

“Nice ass, McClain,” Rolo yells behind them. The newly claimed son of Aphrodite can feel the breeze hit his – oh my gods what was his mother thinking – _bare_ buttocks under the short toga, and he sends him the middle finger. To Hades with Chiron or the younger kids.

“I scored that,” Nyma hollers, her giggle heard even as Lance tries his best to tune it all out – tune all of it out.

He can’t seem to find his own voice, which only makes this experience scarier, but Hunk fills the silence, agreeing with Keith.  “Good idea, you’re right. Come on, buddy, your beautiful is hurting their eyes.”

Lance chokes on a laugh, but the weight on his chest doesn’t lighten that much. He swears he sees Keith blush, however, which he does find amusing.

“Pidge!” he hears Allura call out, still on the deck of the Big House, “We need you up here.”

Lance’s shorter friend seems to suddenly snap out of her Lance induced haze, and she runs to catch up with them. The brightness in her eyes at being included hasn’t been there for some time, he notices.

They walk towards the big house, back to where he’d just left only minutes ago, and a lot of chatter is going on.

A lot of talk about, _“Wow, did you expect that?” “Honestly, with how much care he puts into his skin, yeah, maybe.” “It’s been long enough.” “Why now?” “He’s so beautiful!” “Did you notice how handsome Lance has always been?” “He’s almost 17, why did Aphrodite wait so long?”_.

A lot of questions to which Lance has no answers.

 

 

 

When they sit inside, everyone ready to listen and trying not to be distracted by Lance, it’s so that Allura can recite the prophecy. While Lance is glad the girl doesn’t become another living walking ray of sunshine once again, there is still something supernatural about it as she speaks the lines.

Her voice is deeper, older – and her eyes colder, brighter. Lance expects not to like what she is going to say, and the oracle, as always, doesn’t disappoint.

_“The son of Ares shall lead the winding way,_

_A hidden path five must follow into the fray,_

_To find the inventor and sister’s lost brother torn,_

_Victory’s taste the forge, dove and sky will mourn,_

_In a selfish hero’s love a choice be jaded,_

_Olympus’s allegiance in war be fated.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (warning: some aquatic trauma that isnt described super duper deeply?)
> 
> HOPE YOU LIKED IT <3<3<3 i am sooo sorry for the mistakes, i will edit soon i promise 
> 
> Explanation is below, but PLEASE comment if you liked, and subscribe for more! A comment is like the most amazing thing that a fanfic author can ever ever receive on a work and you guys left me so shook and happy from the response to last chap. 150 subcribers? I'm glad I'm entertaining, ya'll
> 
> Tell me what you think will happen next! what is going on with the prophecy!?? did you agree with Lance's parent!? Keith's chapters are next! How do you feel about that??
> 
> Happy belated Valentines and hope you have a GREAT day!!!!!!!
> 
> Lance being a son of Aphrodite: Um, so one of the reasons that lance is my favorite character because he isnt this biiigggg deal. Like – think of Shiro. And then think of Lance. Lance isnt supposed to be this already shining star who has awesome powers and can totally kick ass no doubt about it. He’s this lost kid trying to figure out who he wants to be and who he is, and how sometimes those don’t overlap. So, Lance in voltron verse is my fave because he has to work to end up being kickass. Not because he isnt already kickass but because he doesn’t know it yet – or he’s lying to himself too much to see it. So, Poseidon wasn’t my pick partly because of the power the name holds. Lance in this story isnt a kid whos looked at as awesome and powerful. He’s just like lance in the show, trying to be what he isnt and disappointed when he cant get there. Also just like, he flirts? and this is the godly parent who i consider capable of what's described in the summary? Poseidon is boss parent, he would never do that in any PJO related greek god works =) Also, plot. ;)


	4. Keith Can’t Solve All His Problems by Stabbing Them, Surprisingly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So, is that whole ‘I’m going to shishkabob the hard work of the Hephaestus cabin’ an Ares kid thing, or a regular Keith thing, cause I’m a tell ya, if that’s how you treat the equipment I bring on the quest with us, we’re gonna have a problem.”
> 
> Hunk’s brow raises again, and the smile that had been gracing his features ever so slightly falls.
> 
> Keith isn’t the best at reading people, but he knows right away that Hunk’s not just talking about the poor conditions of the dummy.
> 
> “I appreciate good equipment, Hunk,” he tries for. “I promise I won’t cut into it… on purpose.”
> 
> Hunk considers this. “Huh, I guess that’s best I can ask for, isn’t it, warhead?”
> 
> Keith uncrosses his arms, lets them hang, and fleetingly makes eye contact. “I guess.”
> 
> The son of Hephaestus steps closer. “Look man, I’mma be straight with you – stop fucking with Lance.”
> 
> Keith feels his stomach drop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made it in a month! Woo! Now. . . 21 more months to go. =( Yes, I have finally created a complete outline for this fic. =)
> 
> Le me start off by saying THANK YOUUUUUU you guys were so sweet and all your feedback and guesses were so cute. I'm very thankful you all agreed with my godly parent for Lance. 
> 
> So, I made an edit to the sixth prophecy line, btw, not Gods'... but Olympus's.. just fyi. 
> 
> Also, I am sorry if this chapter seems a little off, I honestly got a little overwhelmed with plot and Keith and like just - life. I will include in end notes some of the not so fun things that happened to me this month.
> 
> its 2AM so i apologize for typos <3<3<3  
> ENJOY!!

_“The son of Ares shall lead the winding way,_

_A hidden path five must follow into the fray,_

_To find the inventor and sister’s lost brother torn,_

_Victory’s taste the forge, dove and sky will mourn,_

_In a selfish hero’s love a choice be jaded,_

_Olympus’s allegiance in war be fated.”_

Keith doesn’t realize he’d been holding his breath the whole time Allura was speaking until he sees Lance exhale shakily across the ping pong table.

It’s hard to look at anything but the other boy at the moment, even with the prophecy echoing in all of their ears. They sit as they had over two hours ago, when the meeting had just began. All the head counselors Keith remembers from three years time living at Camp Half-Blood are here, and they all look shaken.

Pidge, who’s name Keith had only learned yesterday strangely enough, is the first to break the silence.

“Sister’s lost brother torn?” she asks the room.

“Matt," say both her and Shiro at the same time.

“Who’s the inventor person though? It seems like he’s connected,” says the counselor of the Demeter cabin, looking nervous.

What she had to be nervous about, Keith wasn’t sure. It didn’t seem like a child of Demeter had much to worry about in this prophecy.

“Don’t forget about the five demigods – quests usually only have three. What’s that supposed to mean, Chiron?” asks Coran, one of his hands on Allura’s shoulder.

The princess, as she’s been nicknamed quite rightfully, in Keith’s opinion, looks drained. Her eyes are dark and she is wringing her hands over the blue of the table. Mr. D sits on her other side, and for once, he does not look bored.

The events of the last few minutes had definitely been of the exciting kind. Keith also knows that they did not all occur almost at once as part of a coincidence. Shiro had gone upstairs after Allura, against Chiron’s wishes. The son of Zeus could no longer be stopped, and to be honest Keith hadn’t tried. He’d been waiting for something to happen, and the quiet gave him too much time to think. Too much time to think about the words he’d said, and what he’d done, and whether it had been worth it.

Hades, Keith had said a lot of dumb shit.

At this point – and with how things were unraveling themselves, he is sure it hadn’t been worth it.

Because, not long after Shiro went up there was a scream, and nearly simultaneously, that’s when the commotion outside began.

All Keith knows is that he may have already fucked up this quest before it even began.

“Allura, my dear, can you tell us exactly what happened upstairs – why did it take so long to acquire the prophecy? And why did you take it so traumatically? The scream was most startling.”

Keith agrees with Chiron. They all need to know what happened upstairs before they try to unmask this prophecy.

Shiro sits next to Keith, but it doesn’t stop him from reaching diagonally across the ping pong table to place his hand on Allura’s at the question. Their eyes meet, and Keith suddenly feels awkward. Maybe the whole room does.

Averting his eyes from his friend’s moment with the mysterious daughter of Apollo leads him to finding the shining beacon of beauty in the room.

Is it horrible of him that seeing Aphrodite’s blessing on Lance makes him regret what he did this morning about a million times more? Or even how he’d treated Lance for the years that they’ve known each other?

Because Keith had lied when he said he didn’t remember Lance. Yeah, he didn’t really recall the guy’s name, usually referring to him as McClain when him and his fellow Ares siblings decided to gang up on the camp’s token unclaimed kid.

It hadn’t helped that when Lance first came to camp he’d acted so loud and exuberant and happy.

Keith at fourteen (and fifteen, and sixteen, and well, if this morning was any proof to it, seventeen) had been an insensitive hothead, but in some ways, his behavior had its roots.

In the system since he was seven, his mom having up and left him one day in a supermarket, life had only gotten worse for him when more often than not, the stupid foster parents the system fed him to were monsters right out of a history book. If his godly parent hadn’t protected Keith – hadn’t given him weapons and the knowledge to be able to learn and defend himself – he wouldn’t be alive.

He remembers clear as day the strange yet familiar man that had picked him up in that large and scary and looming supermarket. A sleeveless biker jacket and ripped jeans. Bulging muscles and tattoos. A bandana tied fashionably around his forehead, maroon. But his face – an open smile that held bite and a proud glint in his fiery eyes. Merely comforting a seven year old lost and alone in the world.

Ares – because of course it had been Ares – gave Keith that bandana that day, along with his dagger. Stygian Iron with wickedly purple glints of patterned sodalite in the metal – making it look all that more deadly.

Seven years later, Keith had just fought off his new foster parents with the dagger, just received a gaping wound in his side. Alone again and possibly more afraid, he found himself bleeding out on the deserted sidewalk of the sketchy side of the unfamiliar town he’d been transferred to. He’d been ready to die, looking up at the sunset tinged violet sky, when he’d heard the rev of a motorcycle.

He should have felt fear at what may have been a new monster there to pick his bones for the rest of him, but instead he only felt peace. He saw that same strange yet familiar face, felt warm liquid coconut chocolate flavored liquid soothe his throat. Felt his side stitching back together.

By the time he’d regained complete awareness, the motorcyclist was gone, but a small army pack like bag had been left behind, sitting next to Keith. The bag had been filled with new clothes, including a cropped 80s style jacket Keith still owned (and wore) to this day, water and some food, ambrosia that Keith would eventually find out to be food of the gods, and a small Greek mythology text. The text had included tales of his father, and lastly, Keith also found in the bag the most important item he has and probably ever, will own.

His gloves.

All Keith had to do was collide both of his fists together, and suddenly he held a celestial bronze sword and shield in his hands, respectively. Throw them up in the air and smash fists again – regular black leather fingerless gloves. He can also consciously command only the sword to appear. All in all, Ares has protected Keith his entire life, making sure he found Shiro, and that he got to Camp Half-Blood.

As amazing as this was to him and all the other campers, it was not the same for the rest of Ares’s children at Camp Half-Blood. They quickly became very envious of him, and Keith had been separated from family and friends his entire life, so he did what he could to become likeable to his siblings. He became just like them for a time – arrogant, cocky, and as all of the cabins could say about the god of war kids – a bully.

Shiro, a constant for him since the older boy found him wandering the streets of New York City and brought him to what he would call home for the years to come, was disappointed in his behaviour. However, ever the picture of the epic demigod hero, Shiro stood by him loyally. He’d been a trustworthy anchor over the years, and a great pillar of support. Keith owed as much to the son of Zeus as he did to Ares, who accepted keith always, even when he had become the bully his siblings all wanted him to be.

So Lance had been much too easy as a target. A happy go easy guy who was ultimately a loser because his godly parent didn’t even bother acknowledging him? Even though most kids were claimed right away, as the other campers informed Keith.

Looking at the boy now, realizing what his claiming and the prophecy must mean – Keith knows he has yet to pay for the way he’s treated Lance.

“I don’t think the prophecy was just for me – that’s why it took so long,” Allura states carefully, bringing Keith back. She seems hesitant to continue, and Keith twitches at how easily Shiro picks up her slack.

“I may not have heard it myself from the oracle, only Allura did, but when I came upstairs to check on her – _something_ happened. Again.”

“You mean, the light thing?” Hunk questions, to the general satisfaction of the room.

Shiro nods, and Keith watches as his Adam’s apple bobs with nerves. Anything to keep his thoughts and sight away from Lance, who sits more somber than ever before, but whose charm begs to distract the audience from Shiro’s words. “Yes, that. But this time it was different.”

“Different how?” asks Chiron.

“I believe. . . I believe I reached out to Shiro in return this time. I, um, have only heard of it before, but my mother, she told me that my father, Apollo, he’d always been able to reach her throughout her life, even after he’d left us.”

“Wait,” Pidge interrupts, ever ahead of everyone else – or at least as Keith has so far noticed the girl to be, “are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

Socializing and problem solving in a group has always been mentally exhausting for Keith, but especially as he’s been mostly sitting since right after dinner, he feels the beginnings of a irritation fuelled migraine coming on. He doesn’t know how Shiro is doing it, as his friend looks just as tense as Keith feels.

 _Patience yields focus_ , he recalls, and sighs.

This meeting is gonna require a whole lot of patience.

Mr. D leans forward in his chair to the shock of the entirety of the room, Keith not excluded. As much as counsellor meetings are not his thing, even when he’d been the Ares Cabin counsellor for a short period of time before almost punching the Hermes head in the face and being denoted, he collectively stares along with everyone else as the wine god decides to _voluntarily_ join a demigod discussion.

“It is possible, but if what you say is true, you are quite powerful for a child of Apollo.”

Dionysus is trying to remain looking bored, Keith notices by the man’s attempt at nonchalance by slurping on his coke and blinking dumbly.

“I am my father’s chosen champion,” says Allura proudly, her eyes glittering. “But I admit, this power does seem overwhelming. I have no idea how to control it or, why it has been given to me.”

Keith catches the glint in the Mr. D’s eyes. By the way everyone else is stuck to Allura in awe, he assumes no else notices.

“My dear, please explain yourself, as my experience training children of Apollo has been limited in my eons of life, and am not familiar with the power you are referring to.”

Keith has never been more internally grateful for Chiron. So far everything in this meeting seemed like it was being stated in a purposefully _vague_ way. Keith just wants answers.

“It has to do with the ichor in running in all demigods’ veins. Each demigod has blood of the gods in their essence, and it is combined with their own life essence – their mortal one. Mine and Shiro’s, I think but am not sure, is more so compatible than others?”

Dionysus nods to this, once again shocking the room by interacting. “The term you are referring to is a creature’s quintessence. Any mortal or immortal has their own unique quintessence, and being of godly relations increases the intensity of quintessence in any creature with godly blood. It appears that the ichor running through yourself and Shiro is interconnected at a quintessential level.”

 _Patience_ , Keith reminds himself, more irritated every second the meeting seems to go on without any answers. They should be focusing on the quest, on the prophecy right now.

Coran replies before anyone else. “I read of this somewhere – maybe in Olympus when my father asked me to be trained formally—”

(Keith did not know anything of this, but accepted it; Coran had been a presence at Camp as long as he could remember. It wasn’t inconceivable as a demigod of his age to have encountered and trained with the gods once or twice.)

“—Quintessence manipulation comes easier to children of Apollo as they deal with healing – which is a direct impact on the healed’s life forces. Our power comes from the sun, and we take its life essence and use it to meld others – consequentially by affecting their quintessences we are also healing their physical wounds. This would mean that somehow, the two of you are infused with the same quintessence, to some extent—”

“Like siblings? You’re, um, ichor blood related?” interrupts the Aphrodite counsellor hesitantly (Keith cannot remember her name, but has a vague memory of her being upset when he turned her down to watch the camp fireworks together), eyeing Allura distastefully but then glancing to Shiro, eyelashes in motion like she has something in her eye.

“No,” utter both Allura and Shiro at the same time, their sheepish glances at each other as they realize they spoke in unison almost comical.

“No,” Allura continues, corrects the daughter of Aphrodite, barely noticing the venomous look sent her way in response. “This is the same way my father was also connected to my mother, and I don’t believe the blood – ichor – in our veins is the same – merely compatible.”

Keith has enough, and no repeating of his friend’s advice will help his migraine now. “So, the two of you are quintessency compatible or something; why does this matter? For Ares sake, shouldn’t we be focusing on the prophecy?”

He can feel sharp stares on him, wondering why the Ares kid can never have an ounce of patience. Keith wonders it too.  

“Kurt has a point,” shrugs Mr. D, like anyone cares what he has to say now that he isn’t saying anything helpful.

The room ignores the god, and the most hardened of all the stares come from eyes bluer than a summer sky. “I think, if you’ll let them finish,” Lance spits in a tone of voice incredibly cold and unlike him, even to someone who was constantly getting on the other’s bad side, “we _might_ just figure out why it matters. I know that if I’m understanding correctly, Allura, you’re claiming that you and Shiro have a, um, what? A psychic bond?"

Shiro clears his throat before answering the question directed to Allura. “I don’t know about reading each other’s thoughts, but there’s definitely some sort of supernatural connection.”

The room is silent for some seconds, and Dionysus is smiling smugly when Keith glances at him again. Jerk.

“The reason _why_ it matters, um,” she addresses him, “you’re name is Keith, yes?”

He nods with more calmness than he feels.

“The reason is because after hearing this prophecy, I know now that I am merely meant to help guide the five demigods mentioned on their journey. I am not part of the five – Shiro is. And if I am correct, so is Pidge, and as we have seen of his claiming today, also Lance.”

The whole room looks in unison as the princess speaks to the three names she mentions. Like everyone else, when Lance is mentioned, Keith’s gaze lingers.

It’s just. . .the other boy looks so _pretty_.

Keith had seen him there, seen him amongst the crowd, his usual smile shattered away by the sign over his head, and his features radiant to all, a call to anyone with the ability to perceive beauty.

 _And beautiful he is,_ Keith gulps at his own thought.

He doesn’t think Aphrodite put cosmetics on Lance, but the shimmer to his dark tan had not been there before – or maybe it had, Keith always tried his hardest to not notice the other boy. The length of long lashes, the way the light framed the attractive tilt of his masculine face, his lips rosy and almost plump – looking as though no gods’ ambrosia specifically tailored to that demigod’s desires would taste as heavenly. The pull to this boy was undeniable to every single person in the room, besides maybe other children of the love goddess. Keith knew it to be Aphrodite’s charm, but that did not stop him, as well as he assumes almost the entirety of the room, from holding their breath when laying eyes on Lance.

He hadn’t let it stop him from reaching for Lance in the crowd earlier, from grabbing the boy’s arm and encouraging him to hide away from all the eyes, the hollers, the whispers.

Even after the shit show he’s pulled this morning.

As he continues to let his eyes trace Lance’s bared collarbone and the way the golden bands around his biceps make them look, Keith affirms something about himself that has always rang true when others told him so. Told him he’s too blunt, or doesn’t know when to let things go, or doesn’t understand the act of trying to solve a problem instead of yelling at it, not afraid to dig deep and dirty at others because it’s been what was done to him his whole life and frankly he just doesn’t know how to change that— wants to, but doesn’t know how. . .

He’s an asshole.

Gods.

(Another detail not so mentioned by others that he also affirms in that moment: he is so irrevocably gay. Oh well.)

Hunk clears his throat awkwardly, “ _Anyways_ ,” he leans across Lance in a way that makes almost everyone look away guiltily, “are you saying you aren’t meant to go on the quest, but still play a role in leading it?"

“Yes,” confirms Allura. “Of the other five demigods, three I am sure of. Although I believe I also have an inkling as to who ‘the son of Ares’ may refer to.”

Shiro and Chiron nod together, but it’s Shiro who tells the room what Keith knew the moment he’d heard the Oracle would be visited.

“Keith.”

The son of Ares doesn’t have to look over to know that Lance has just rolled his eyes.

“If I’m going on a quest, Hunk is going too.”

Hunk sputters.

Chiron raises a brow. “Now, Lance, I understand that this all very shocking, but I do not think that is your decision to make—”

Pidge, who had not said a word since she’d discovered her own part in the quest, speaks up immediately. “Chiron, the ‘forge’ is clearly mentioned in the fourth line, that is clear symbolism to Hephaestus. Hunk is a great candidate to go on the quest and I also say that if I’m going a quest, Hu—”

“Pidge, Lance, Chiron,” Allura interrupts kindly, “I also think Hunk is the right choice, if he is willing, of course.”

The room turns to Hunk, whose face is red and eyes bulging. “Um, me? Are you sure? I’m more of a stay in the forge kind of guy, myself. Make some mean congratulations on monster smashing refreshments, too. Not so much symbolically represent Hephaestus in a great prophecy type, you know how it is. Honestly, I think almost anyone else is better qualified, you really don’t know what you’re talking about, Allura, you’re too nice—”

Coran pats the blubbering boy on the back harshly enough that he goes quiet, glancing around the room at the room expectantly.

Chiron addresses him. “Hunk, my boy, breathe. I think every person in this room agrees you are more than qualified to go on this quest?” He turns it into a question, to which the entire room responds supportively.

Hunk is visually shocked, flushed and spluttering again, when every head, including Keith’s, nods in agreement. “Oh, um, okay then. If all of you insist.”

Pidge hugs her friend, and Lance’s face brightens for a moment, his arms squeezing around his friend for a moment before his good mood dissipates again, hand falling back to the table.

Keith notices a glimmer of gold in the boy’s ear, and shifts in his seat when he grasps that Lance now has (or maybe always did have) a gold hoop pierced in his ear.

He’s suddenly very grateful for his father. Ares never would have done this sort of thing to him, or any of his children, he doesn’t think.

“It’s settled then,” Shiro states with a certain level of finality Keith has trouble believing anyone else in the room could have managed so naturally. “Now, are there any theories as to what the prophecy itself may mean?”

A silver of dread crawls up into his lungs. Keith had heard the lines, and not a single one of them sounded good.

As the room settles into silence, Keith knows he’s not the only one who thinks so.

 

 

 

 

Keith throws his blade, and once that sticks to the bull’s eye at the other end of the training arena, he grabs at a camp dagger that’s a little too bulky for his taste and hits the bullseye next to it.

He does it again, and again, and after the seventh, he’s realized he’s used all the small blades that had been in the armoury for practice.

Without missing a beat, he brings his fists together and only opens his right palm as he feels the gloves transform – his sword now in his grip, weight balanced and perfect.

He spins and hits an eighth bullseye.

Collecting all the weapons, he returns to the other end of the arena. He does the same exercise with his left hand, and is irritated when two of his eight throws miss the bullseye, one going completely wide.

He hears a horn sound in the distance, and knows that the camp is announcing breakfast, encouraging all to join them that Sunday morning.

Keith ignores it, and puts away the daggers. There are a few independent and decent mechanical dummies the Hephaestus cabin had added after Keith’s first year here, so he summons his sword and puts them to use.

He doesn’t know how long he goes at it for – all Keith knows is that he doesn’t have to _think_ when he’s fighting. Maybe it’s Ares kid thing, maybe it’s a Keith thing, but parrying, dodging, slashing, and slicing have always been his best escape.

All of his third year at Camp, the year before Shiro went on a quest, he’d been ignoring his camp schedule to train. Ignoring his cabin mates, Shiro, and any demigod who felt they were worth his time to challenge.

Right before Shiro’s quest had been announced (better times, Keith thinks bitterly. Times h the man he considered a brother still had his arm, his memory, and hadn’t gone through unimaginably horrible  things) there had been a event held. Done every couple of years, the sword fighting competition had left the entire camp on it’s toes, with only three members of each cabin allowed to participate.

Keith hadn’t wanted to, but his cabin insisted he be a member. When he won, high on victory and exhilarated to have beat Shiro, he’d been the talk of the camp. And as much as it was nice at first – the renewed attention and love of his siblings, it got old fast. Keith took it out on a couple of people, but a certain unclaimed demigod who had only made fifteenth took most of the fire.

Keith hadn’t been the one who’d asked for his ass to get beaten in front of an audience, in his defence. Lance had wanted to spar? Keith sparred him. It wasn’t his fault the guy had to go and make a big show of it.

Either way – getting lost in a fight was his thing, even if wasn’t always good, as Shiro had consitantly tried to explain to him that year.

He becomes a bit unfocused on the violent machinery in front of him by a drop of sweat piercing his vision, and is about to call off the dummy, maybe go and take a stab at the unpredictable lava shooting rock wall before heading to his cabin for a nap, when someone clears their throat.

Keith twists to face the entrance of the arena, ready to tell Shiro to either pick up a sword and spar with him, or go bother someone else.

He’s surprised to see Hunk there, the son of Hephaestus twitching where he stands. Keith is unsure of how to react, but he calls off the dummy and is silent, wiping an arm over his forehead to get his hair out of his vision.

It’d be best not to leave a bad impression on every member of this new quest, he supposes, colliding his fists and allowing his shield and sword to collapse back into his gloves.

If he doesn’t have his gloves on, or a weapon in his hand, Keith feels naked, so he reassures himself by crossing his arms to feel the leather of them rest against his bare forearms.

Hunk greets him shortly, “Keith, dude.”

“Hunk.”

Hunk’s brow raises almost imperceptibly. He walks towards Keith and notices the state the dummy is in.

“Oh man!” he exclaims, a bit comically considering how big and stoic he’d looked the moment before. “And I just fixed that thing yesterday. Guess that’s a later Hunk’s problem, then.”

“Actually,” Keith doesn’t know why he clarifies, doesn’t know what it is about Hunk that’s making him nervous, “later Hunk has bigger problems.”

Maybe it’s the fact that Hunk, although Keith had only learned his name yesterday, is Lance’s best friend and he vaguely recalls the other boy always being there. Maybe that is why Keith is finding it hard to look at Hunk straight on, even though facing people has never really been an issue to Keith.

He’s grateful to Hunk, though. Him and Pidge coming to his, Shiro’s and Lance’s rescue the other week had ensured that Shiro was safe and they’d all survived.

“So, is that whole ‘I’m going to shishkabob the hard work of the Hephaestus cabin’ an Ares kid thing, or a regular Keith thing, cause I’m a tell ya, if that’s how you treat the equipment I bring on the quest with us, we’re gonna have a problem.”

Hunk’s brow raises again, and the smile that had been gracing his features ever so slightly falls.

Keith isn’t the best at reading people, but he knows right away that Hunk’s not just talking about the poor conditions of the dummy.

“I appreciate good equipment, Hunk,” he tries for. “I promise I won’t cut into it… on purpose.”

Hunk considers this. “Huh, I guess that’s best I can ask for, isn’t it, warhead?”

Keith uncrosses his arms, lets them hang, and fleetingly makes eye contact. “I guess.”

The son of Hephaestus steps closer. “Look man, I’mma be straight with you – stop fucking with Lance.”

Keith feels his stomach drop. He immediately wants to protest, but Hunk keeps talking.

“I get it, okay. Lance is an acquired taste – but don’t think for a second it was okay for you to be a dick to him about being unclaimed all those years. Or whatever yesterday morning was. Or now, cause of what his mom did. All of us have mommy or daddy issues, and its not cool of you to put yours out onto him. I know you have this buddy-buddy thing with Shiro, but if I’m following _you_ anywhere into an types of ‘winding way’s, I need to know you can suck it up and be buddy-buddy with _everyone_.” He releases a breath, and his brown eyes flick to the left and back before he adds, “Pidge too.”

His blood pounds in the back of his head. This son of Hephaestus, known for their intelligence of machinery – not people –  had just told Keith for everything he himself knew he’d been fucking up, one day after he’d learned of the other boy’s name. The blood rushes to his face in shame. Hades if that didn’t make his sweat go cold or his stomach churn.

He didn’t know how to react, and the other boy must have seen in it on his face. “I’m sorry for dumping all of that on you, okay? Maybe you hadn’t noticed, but you’ve never particularly sown to care for _anyone_ besides Shiro at this camp, and if we’re going to do this – go on this quest, we need to be a team. I think.”

Keith is in awe, if he’s honest. As unsure of himself as Hunk sounds, as goofy as he’d presented himself in the time Keith acknowledged who he was, that protectiveness he had for his friends? The bravery he I showing just in this confrontation of Keith?

It’s the same type of fierce loyalty in others that Keith has always looked for in others, what he’s always craved his siblings and friends to do for him.

The only people who had ever shown that kind of loyalty to Keith – unyielding and ever present – were Ares and Shiro. Neither were people who were able to be around for Keith, although Shiro’s situation was not his fault.

Shiro had needed him, and Keith hadn’t gave up – he hadn’t given up even after a year.

He swallows down a lump. “You’re right.”

“Of course I am— wait, what?”

Keith brings his shoulders back and makes fists with his hands, teeth grinding in determination. “I’ll deal with my issues. I can’t afford to make any more members of this team hate me, anyways. You’re right.”

Hunk nods, still a bit stumped. Keith grabs his jacket from the bench he’d left it on and feels though this might be a good time to leave.

“Lance doesn’t hate you,” he hears as he turns to go, no time to process it before more is coming. “And Keith, where are you going? I was sent to find you, just had some stuff to clear up first. Which I’m glad we did. We have to meet with Allura and the rest at the forges, I already told you me and Pidge made up some cool stuff.”

“I-” he doesn’t understand why Hunk isn’t glaring at him. Why this boy who just accused him of fucking with his best friend is still treating him like anyone else. “Alright.”

Hunk smiles, like nothing happened, and gestures for him to wait for him where Keith is almost at the exit of the arena so they can walk there together.

Keith isn’t smiling, and he feels a heavy weight where previously was the accumulation of excuses for his actions, but each step towards the forges, each step Hunk is still in step with him for, still baffling Keith as to why, helps him feel lighter.

 

 

 

 

Shiro doesn’t look happy with him when he gets to the forges.

“You weren’t at breakfast,” he says.

Keith shrugs. “Wasn’t hungry.”

His friend looks like he wants to say more, but eases off of Keith and turns to the others when Pidge clears her throat. The others include the five of the prophecy and Allura.

Allura’s white hair stands out in the darker setting where she stands directly across form him. They’ve gathered around a work table surrounded by rusting shelves all around the room and taller work counters with classic weapons one would expect to find in a forge. Hunk goes to stand next to Pidge right away, who’s sitting on a counter that looks clear of grime and grease, Lance leaning next to her on it. Even with Pidge sitting on a counter that comes up to Lance’s waist, Pidge’s head barely comes to the same height.

Keith notices that Lance has changed his clothes, thank Zeus. Now the boy wore an oversized hoodie with the sleeves cut off and khaki’s that went to his knees.

He casts his eyes away from the boy quickly, however, as the way his skin still glows and his blue eyes glitter, even in this low light, made it obvious whatever Aphrodite had done to her son had not faded. It’s a gift from the god’s that the revealing toga was gone, since Keith isn’t sure how well he’s be able to fight monsters on a quest with _that_ just off to his side.

“Before Pidge and Hunk show us what they’ve managed to scrounge up, Allura, you said you had more information for us?” Shiro places the attention on her, his golden arm grasping the edge of the table.

The girl clears her throat, and Keith notices this is the first time he has seen her without Coran present as well. “Yes, although I have what I believe you call good _and_ bad news.”

“Bad first, please,” requests Pidge. The others in the room nod their agreement.

“I spoke to Chiron yesterday about what we have assumed is meant in the prophecy by ‘winding way.’ Like we all agreed in the meeting yesterday, the labyrinth is the most likely fit.”

Just as he had when he’d guessed it yesterday, just before Hunk was the one to suggest it timidly, Keith feels all his muscles clench. Shiro had had to go through the labyrinth once already, even if he didn’t recall any of it – it isn’t fair that he had to again. The thought makes Keith’s blood boil.

“My sense of the prophecy has gotten a little bit clearer after I prayed to my father last night, and talked to Chiron and Coran this morning before breakfast. Just like I was able to envision all those who must go the quest – to see all of you as part of the prophecy – I have seen something else.”

“What?” He asks, knowing he won’t like the answer.

“I have seen a name. This name, Chiron has informed me, is the only person who has knowledge of where the last know entrance to labyrinth may be. I assume, Shiro, you do not recall how you came to find yourself in New York?”

The white hair on Shiro’s head bounces as the older demigod shakes his head. “No. One second I’m running for my life in tunnels, the next I’m running for my life in the city, trying to find camp.”

Allura’s sky blue gaze reflects the same pity etched on all their features as Shiro seems to drift into his own thoughts. Keith notices more tha one pair of eyes flickering to Shiro’s golden arm. She continues quickly, to their relief. “The man’s name is Slav. Chiron said he remembers him. Slav is a son of Athena who was captured during the last Great War and was never the same again, about the same age as Coran.”

“Is that the bad news then? That this guy is probably a bit off his wonker?” Hunk echoes what the rest of them are wondering.

“No,” Allura’s lips purse. “The bad news is that no one knows where Slav was last seen.”

Lance groans, interrupting whatever else Allura might have had to add. “No chance we can do a group prayer session to Apollo and hope you see that, too?”

Expecting Allura to show some sign of annoyance or regret that what Lance is suggesting is impossible, she shocks Keith with her response. “That is how we come to our good news.”

“Our good news is that we can praise Apollo until he shows us where one of my siblings is?” Pidge asks in disbelief.

“Yeah, sounds fake but okay,” adds Hunk, much to Keith’s and Allura’s minor confusion.

Shiro’s eyes roll at the same time as Lance chuckles. “Let’s let her explain, guys.”

Keith tries to ignore how nice Lance’s laugh sounds by focusing on the fact that Shiro looks a little better, more present.

“Um, yes, thank you, Shiro,” Allura blushes slightly. “I was speaking with Chiron, and after some discussion, we have come to the conclusion that there _is_ a way for us to learn of Slav’s whereabouts. It is merely a theory at the moment, but both of us think that Lance may be the key.”

Allura pronounces the boy’s name _Lonce_ , Keith notes. They all turn towards the son of Aphrodite.

Lance’s face flushes from the attention, but it doesn’t retract from his charm at all. The earring in his ear stands out to Keith as the brunette begins to shake his head. “Um, you must mean Pidge, after all this guy is a child of _Athena_ , no? Did I not hear that right? I know my claiming was only yesterday guys—” he gestures to himself widely “—but _Aphrodite_ did all this, not Athena.”

“Lance,” says Allura, her voice slightly hesitant, “I realize you may not want to discuss this with all of us, and I am sorry that Chiron informed me of some of your circumstances without consulting you first. I realize things were a little tense with us yesterday, which is my fault, I _do_ appreciate what you told me, I know it must not have been an easy task. But Chiron and I both believe, based on the way you have told him of your travels to Camp Half-Blood some years ago, that you have the ability to. . . to charmspeak.”

Keith doesn’t understand half of what Allura is talking about, but it appears that some of it is taken in by Lance. The boy’s tan arms land on the work table, brow raised at Allura. “Charmspeak?”

The whole room is awaiting Allura’s answer it seems, as even Pidge looks stumped.

“Well,” Allura begins, “Chiron reckons that if I could help you come in contact with my father, you might be able to sway him to tell you of Slav’s whereabouts.”

Shiro steps away from the table, looking at Allura decisively. “Sway? I don’t understand. Allura, you’re not making sense. Why would Lance be able to sway a god?”

“Yeah, I agree with Shiro. I’m confused,” Pidge agrees.

Lance is silent. Keith is looking at him, confused like the rest of them but caring more about how Lance might react – if he has any clue to what Allura’s saying. Lance moves, and Keith looks away as their gazes meet for just a second.

“Charmspeaking is a rare child of Aphrodite talent,” the Princess explains. “I will not tell all of you why myself and Chiron believe Lance may be capable of it, as that is for him to share, but the ability allows one to use their voice as a way of charming others into doing their bidding. If I could just act as the gateway for my father and Lance to have a brief conversation, I am confident that Apollo will be more convinced to tell us where Slav is. Or how to find him.”

“Wait, princess, are you saying what you think I’m saying? That you want me to charm Apollo – a god, your father – to give us information?”

Allura grips her hands together in front of her, facing Lance head on. “Well, yes.”

“Did you hit your head? Did Dionysus slip some wine in yours and Chiron’s drink?”

“Lance—”

“Um, no, Shiro. Did you hear her? I’m sorry, Allura, but I think you have the wrong guy.”

Hunk rests a hand on Lance’s shoulder and pulls him back to the counter, reaching across Pidge to do it. “Lance, calm down.”

Lance just stares down at his feet, his head shaking.

Keith takes a breath. “Allura,” he starts, an idea forming, “Is there anyway you can prove it to him? Prove that Lance can actually, um, charmspeak?”

Shiro glances at him, eyes bright. Allura looks thoughtful, obviously concentrating on finding a way to do as Keith asked.   

“Lance – Lance, I understand you don’t believe me, but Keith’s right.”

Keith swears he hears Lance mutter something depreciative under his breath.

Allura continues. “You must have wondered once, all these years, how you managed to make it to camp? Almost all by yourself? How a twelve year old was never questioned? Didn’t starve? Didn’t get found, somehow?”

The son of Ares feels guilty then, hearing some of the things Lance went through, even if none of it was detailed, remembering full well how Lance had reacted when Keith told him he’d never survive out of camp.

 “Lance, I need you to concentrate. You are going to ask all of us to do something, something we may not want to do, but you’re going to tell us to do it like it’s the most important thing in the world. Convince us that if we don’t, something will go terribly wrong. Do you understand? Do you think you could try that?”

All five of them observe as Lance sort of sighs, a hand coming up to rub at his face, but nods nonetheless. “Fine, fine, I’ll try. But if I don’t manage to charmtalk, or whatever it’s called, you are all getting a big, fat ‘I told you so.’”

No one replies to Lance, although Pidge’s eyes roll, merely waiting. They all watch as he concentrates, seems to decide on something, and then turns to all of them. His eyes are glittering again, Keith never fails to notice. Maybe they never stopped.

The tan boy’s fists clench, and Lance meets their gazes. “You should all give me the most valuable thing you have with you at the moment,” he says, lips forming a faux-confident smirk. “Go ahead, fish it out of your pockets, take it from wherever it is, I know you want to.”

Keith is shocked to feel his hands twitch, but nothing else besides that happens.

All of them, including Lance, turn to Allura expectantly.

“Try again, please. Make us want it. Remember how you got to camp, Lance. Remember that feeling of your life depending on your luck coming through – of others doing as you needed them to.”

“You can do it, buddy,” Hunk encourages, and Pidge brings a small palm to pat Lance on the back.

Lance doesn’t look happy to be reminded of whatever it is that Allura keeps referencing, but he complies. He closes his eyes and turns around for a moment. Keith wanders if he’s praying to his mother. Keith would be asking Ares for help if it were him.

Then again, there was barely a prayer that Ares left unanswered from Keith. From someone who’s parent had claimed them merely hours ago, Keith isn’t so sure how it would work.

When Lance turns around, something has changed. The thought at the forefront of his mind, what he immediately focuses on, is how inviting the boy looks.

He swallows, reassured a bit when he sees Shiro making a move to avert his eyes nervouly, but Lance speaks before he manages. There’s something warm to his voice, something that reaches out and swallows Keith whole.

He wonders if the others feel it too, or if the way Lance is making him feel is unique to him.

He deserves it least out of all of them, he knows, but it doesn’t make it at all lesser tempting.

“Please, all of you should give me the thing of most value that is on you.”

Keith’s hands clench.

The son of Aphrodite’s voice is soft yet confident. The dim lighting and general grotesqueness of the forge setting does nothing to take away from his beauty.

“I know it’s a lot to ask,” Lance continues, “but we’re a team now, aren’t we? It’s important to share.”

His face feels hotter by the second, and oh no, Lance’s eyes were so blue.

Navy, almost, but still crystal like, lashes framing their unique shape. Lips being moved persuasively, tongue just flickering out to brush the plumper of the two.

“And, if you share the most valuable thing on you, we’ll all be such a better team. You all want that, don’t you? A nice quest where we can all trust each other, and value—”

A loud _clang_ startles all of them.

He jumps in surprise, taking a breath as he tries to blink the thoughts of Lance away. The boy still looks entirely too enticing, but Keith searches for the source of the clang in order to distract himself.

Pidge’s weapon, a unique triangular short katar, had fallen to the floor.

It looked like it must have been aiming for the edge of the table near Lance, but as Pidge was still on the counter, her cheeks furiously red now, it missed and fell to the floor.

Speaking of missing, Keith caught sight of his own hands and almost choked on his own spit.

His gloves were gone. He directs his gaze to follow towards where four items, including Keith’s black leather gloves, lie on the table innocently, placed there by their owners with care.

 _How?_ Keith thinks, but his voice isn’t working, and Hunk beats him to asking.

“Um, what? How?” The bigger boy gets out, voice tight and a little shaken. “Does anyone else remember doing that?”

Lance is smiling slightly, his own features depicting the awe and shock he’s feeling. “Huh, it worked. Allura, I guess I owe you and Chiron an apology.”

The words are said happily, but something about the way his body falls back against the counter tells another tale. Keith wishes he were better at understanding others – understanding Lance.

Shiro’s always been a straightforward guy, and Keith curses that not everyone could be that way.

She smiles at him, but her eyes widen as she rushes swoops in to take what looks like a necklace with a turquoise stone off the table. “Yes, indeed. I am glad I was right.”

Keith follows her example, and slips his gloves on quickly, trying not to attract tension to himself. He feels betrayed by his own body and mind as he feels the leather slide against his skin. Suddenly, he’s more scared of Lance than he’s ever felt before of maybe anyone, including his first foster family, the mother who ended up being a feral harpy in disguise.

He watches as Shiro quickly reaches over and grabs back a small piece of paper, writing illegible, and Hunk quickly snatches back a …. a lollipop?

Shiro clears his throat. Keith feels slightly bad for hoping that the other man is just conflicted with his own body as Keith. “Okay, Lance, if you’re okay with it, after we all finish up here you and Allura should try the plan. Now, unless you have anything else to tell us, Allura, I believe Hunk and Pidge had some supplies?”

Allura shakes her head.

What just happened continues to be hard to process, but he alerts himself to attention, trying to listen to what Hunk and Pidge have for them.

Mostly, though, he just stares at Lance.

Stares at the demigod that was able to single-handedly disarm all five of them of their most valuable item. That power, if harnessed for the quest, would be priceless. He isn’t sure whether to be reassured or frightened by that thought. For now, Keith decides that being reassured is the better option, although it does nothing to diminish the odd feeling he has in his gut at the thought of Lance using it against them.

Against him.

Hunk and Pidge outdo themselves, Keith notes distractedly, focused on the way that Lance fidgets as he stays behind with Allura.

Shiro elbows him, asks him if he’s okay. He replies honestly.

“I don’t know.”

The older demigod stops, turns towards him, and a hand comes up to brace Keith’s shoulder. “Get some rest, okay? If all goes well with Lance, which. . . it will, we leave tomorrow morning first thing.”

‘ _If it goes anything like it did in there_ ’ is left unsaid.

“Yeah,” Keith replies. He thinks of heading to the Ares cabin and getting that nap now, but his stomach growls.

“Come on,” Shiro pulls him by his shoulder, “let’s go eat. Maybe if we offer Aphrodite enough sacrifices then we’ll never go through that again.”

Keith snorts, surprized at his friend’s bluntness.

“Maybe if we offer Apollo some, the god won’t burst Lance into flames after he realizes what he’s done.”

Shiro smiles, the act reaching his stormy eyes, and Keith can do nothing but smile back.

The only thing Keith really had left to do would be to apologize to Lance. That would be for another day, Keith decides anxiously. After all, once Lance was able to get them that location, Keith wouldn’t be rid of him for a while.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, demigod shenanigans and quest ensues right from the top! We will see some greek monsters, yikes. I hope ya'll like the slav im going to come up with. Also I apologize if my 'getting slav's location' logic was off, as well as Lance's charmspeak. I reread the Piper parts of TLH, so i tried.
> 
> So.... Keith, huh? I dont know guys, he was hard to write. SOmehow, im never bothered by typing Lance twenty thousand times in a third person POV, but i am sorry if Keith was used WAYYYY too much. =) I tried. 
> 
> Also FYI, chaps will range from 6k min to higher numbers. Dont be sad if a chapter is 'short' from here on out, legit these first getting settled in plot chaps are so hard.  
> Another FYI, i will soon be editing chaps 1-3, its my goal to edit the previous POV as i work on the next one, that way i can keep up with whats going on.
> 
> PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE let me know what you liked, disliked, etc. I found this chapter challenging. I love writing this story, but transitioning into Keith and getting what i needed written was exhausting. I super duper appreciate you guys and value your opinion.  
> Things to comment on: I am going for a Keith is an open book who doesnt know how to talk to poeple and Lance is a closed book who is easy to read with his interactions with others... is this a yay or nay so far? Is Keith in character? Is the romantic feelings Keith and Lance have for eachother so far believable or forced?
> 
> comments and kudos are lifeeeee
> 
> Thanks!!! Have a great day <3
> 
> Shitty things that happened to me this month (my bday month), in order: got kicked out of the place i went to to celebrate my first legal bday, broke my phone, totaled my car, lost my glasses, got shit marks on three midterms i thought i did well on, got broken up with by a friend for the second time in a year (fuck her), slept through class today..... yeah im talented =) hope your march was better


	5. Keith’s Teamwork for Dummies Book Didn’t Cover This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Okay, okay,” Pidge whispers, “If—”
> 
> “What are you whispering about!?” Slav imposes on them, still in his corner but staring at them head on in a decidedly creepy way. “In 27.66% of all realities this is where you plan to take the information by force, or- or, kill me! A horrible death, drowning in a puddle or- -or---”
> 
> “Shut up!” Keith yells, pleased when four other voices echo his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gahhh!!! All of you are so sweet and I wanna thank you so so much for your support and kind words =)
> 
> You guys will get two updates from me in May, as sadly, I did not get this to you in April. Whatevs guys, time is relative. I am sorry =( i binged 6k of this before the 30th (as i had exams till the 26th) but the odds were not in my favor. in my brain it is the chap that would not write itself );
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter!! they have begun the quest =) Also writing Keith has gotten a bit easier, i think? let me know [warning you im juggling five characters interacting and doing actiony things so please tell me if i need to chnage the pace if this is too much or if ya'll cant understand whats going on]
> 
> Please please please let me know if anything in this regarding Slav is offensive in any way I do not have OCD or am brown - which is the background I decided to give our favorite Bytor's demigod counterpart =)

Monday morning, they head out at ass o’clock.

Keith doesn’t feel tired, but he can see the way Shiro is leaning back in his seat, the set of his shoulders slumped and leg tapping away. Having finally left for the quest made them all restless, Keith included.

They have reason to be. Just before they left, Allura spoke to them in private.

 _“The summer solstice. The 21 st of June. Be careful of the date,”_ she told them, looking to the heavens. Her blue eyes had sparkled with worry, _“Something, or well, someone gives me the feeling it’s important. Hurry so that we may avoid it.”_

At this point, Keith is certain that Allura’s ‘feelings’ were to be trusted.  

So now, they have a deadline. A deadline that’s merely twelve days away. The date for today is the 9th, and the 21st falls on a Sunday.

Lance drives the camp van. Chiron told them they’d have to ditch it before they left the city, but it was their to use while they remined in the big apple.

Lance has been quiet next to Hunk, who has tried to start conversation with the son of Aphrodite multiple times. Weirdly enough, Hunk gets shut down every time, leading him to talk to Pidge. The Athena girl sits in the middle seats of the van, Shiro and Keith in the far back. So far, the two have covered topics from the Labyrinth, to the prophecy (with a small focus on what Hunk’s part to play might be and something about how “‘Mourning victory’ didn’t necessarily have to mean _losing_ , right?” “That’s usually the definition, Hunk.”), and the pros and cons of McDonalds for demigods.

Chiron had given them (read: Shiro – but it was to be used by all of them) a generously thick wad of cash, a small change bag of drachmas, and a credit card. He said the card had been a generous donation from an anonymous party (with so many different gods involved in this prophecy, and a line that included all of Olympus as a whole, Keith had the little to no clue as to who may have ‘donated’ it). Coran had supplied a first aid kit with portions of nectar and ambrosia for each of them and other important medical supplies, like Tic Tacs. Don’t ask Keith, he really doesn’t know. Maybe monsters don’t like bad breath?

In his hands, he plays around with the scrolls that the Athena cabin had gathered and given the group. The scrolls were all vague, and all very useless for the most part, but they were the only archives of information the camp had on the Labyrinth. There was a rumor that there used to be an entrance in Camp Half-Blood itself, but it had mysteriously vanished some time ago. There also used to be a rumor that Dionysus preferred Pepsi to Coke, so Keith doesn’t make anything of it.

“Shiro?” he says quietly, not wanting the others to hear him. Something has been bothering Keith since he put his head on his pillow last night, and this was probably the best moment in the quest so far – still peaceful and relatively safe – to share his thoughts with his trusted friend.

Shiro’s eyes zoom to him, hyper alert. He inclines his head, and Keith wrings his fingers together, rubbing the leather.

“Lance’s power, the umm, talk thing. . . Does it,” he struggles to find the right way communicate himself, “does it worry you?”

He replaced _scare_ with _worry_ at the last second. Fear wasn’t something to broadcast, even to his best friend. That’s what Keith had been taught throughout his experiences as a demigod, the previous year on his own only highlighting this lesson’s importance.

Shiro moves his head to the right slightly as he sighs, like he might lean it on his own shoulder and try to sleep. He doesn’t answer for so long Keith would have re-asked the question if it were anyone else. It’s obvious that Shiro is contemplating his answer carefully, as he often does nowadays. Keith recalls when Shiro would let the first thing he thought out of his mouth, sure of himself and not stressing about every word.

Keith had left camp almost a year ago trying to find that Shiro – to save him from changing. He would never regret that decision. However, Keith may have found Shiro, but it was obvious that he came much too late to save him from the monsters that took that confident and care-free part of him and destroyed it. Don’t get him wrong, anyone with eyes could see Shiro as the true leader he is – son of the big three and quest leader galore – but… something is different now. Off.

“I’m just glad he’s on our side,” says Shiro, finally.

It’s not a denial or an agreement. All it does is make Keith more nervous.

They make their way onto the highway that would take them to lower Manhattan and to where Slav awaited them (if Lance’s flustered muttering of the location to the rest of them before he rushed off to the showers could be trusted). Keith uses the time to go over his own question, realizing he feels the same way as Shiro.

 _Great person to antagonize for years,_ he tells himself. _You really know how to pick ‘em._

It’s not that Keith’s day had been going wonderfully or anything – he was in fact stuck in a van with three people he didn’t know very well, one who Keith is sure hates his guts. However, most things, even a van teeming with understandable awkwardness and anxiety of an impending doom via failure to complete this quest, were still better than _this._

 _This_ being the sound of screeching tires, the crack of shattering glass, and the shouts of his new teammates as they were thrown in all directions from the blasted, tumbling van.

Blasted by what, was the question.

_For Ares’s sake._

Keith sorelylifts his head up from where he’s lying on a concrete sidewalk in who knows which part of New York. There’s glass on the floor beside him, and his brain immediately clears up with adrenaline as he realizes what happened.

His eyes seek out Shiro (as they usually do now that he’d found his friend again), who is flat on his back a bit closer to the van than Keith, on the other side of the street. Honks are sounding around him, people chattering away in panic, and Keith finds Pidge some yards away from Shiro by the sound of her shouting.

There’s blood on her forehead near her hairline and dirt on her clothes. For the most part she looks okay. “What the _fuck_ , Lance!” the girl shrieks, lying on her back with her upper body supported by her arms. “What happened!?”

Keith can relate – what the Hades had happened? The last thing Keith knew before the crash was turning left, and then a violent swerve.

The van, from what he could see, was hit right in the middle and completely totaled. It looked like whatever was hit – which didn’t seem to be anywhere in sight, as the van had skidded to a stop smack dab in the middle of the busy city road – made a dent from below them, ripping the vehicle almost in half and throwing them all out like freshly popped popcorn (perhaps by the lack of working seatbelts in the van).

Eyes flitting around hurriedly in search of their driver, Keith stood up – ignoring the aching in his knees and the throbbing pain in his jaw he’s sure is from hitting the ground after the crash. No sign of Lance so far, but Keith eyes Hunk a little to his right, standing up himself. He looks mostly okay, besides the pieces of glass sticking to his clothes from having landed amongst an island of the little shards.

Many cars are trying to pass them by now that it seemed like they were all standing – all sympathy gone, cursing and antagonizing refreshed - and passerbys had their phones in hand, looking shocked. Keith is sure 911 had been called already.

“Lance!” Hunk joins Pidge, who has stood up now, in shouting, but Shiro’s voice rings out over theirs.

“Be careful! Guys, did any of you see what we hit? Are all of you okay?”

Keith starts walking towards them, clashing fists so his sword forms in his hand. He knows from previous experience that most of the mortals would see him holding a baseball bat, maybe, or something else properly mundane. No matter what they hit, whether it was a light post due to Lance’s reckless driving or one of Hades’s minions, he would be ready for it. He heads over to the van to grab whatever wasn’t thrown out; those supplies had been important. As he begins rummaging through the dented and torn pieces of the Camp van he reaches out to his father, sending a quick prayer his way as he always did when he found himself in some form of deep shit. He hadn’t been let down so far.

_Dad, my friends and I will probably need help. Please so what you can so we can continue succeed on our quest. And kick whatever hit us’s ass._

“A little bruised,” says Hunk in reply to Shiro. Keith sees Pigde give the middle finger to a driver that almost knocks her over in his rush to pass them. The blood on her forehead is drying, appearing to be from a shallow cut above her right brow. “And no – I didn’t see anything – well, maybe I did, I don’t really know—”

He’s interrupted by the sound of frantic yelling. Or well, screaming seems more fitting. All four of them minus Lance, now clustered near the wreck of the van, bags that had been salvaged in hand, turn to look towards the sound.

Keith is relieved, the feeling barely a bleep below the shock and on edge-ness the crash created. What does make a bleep is the realization that Lance is running towards them from a completely opposite and should be impossible direction. There was no way he could have been thrown there from the crash.

“Guys, guys, guys –” Lance tries to tell them, out of breath as his eyes flick to them like an afterthought, constantly looking back from where he came, “we gotta go, we gotta run. _Right now_.”  

“What?” Shiro steps froward to greet him, surprise and relief and worry all twisting together in his voice. “Lance, breathe. What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

Lance could look worse, Keith notices. There’s no glass or car pieces on him, which Keith thinks is weird, but he still looks overtly frazzled. It does nothing to take from his still present Aphrodite charm, but makes a frighteningly distressed picture. Keith has a brief second of mortification at how much he wants to pull the distressed boy close until he cams down, but quickly gets over it.

“Yeah,” adds Pidge haughtily, which helps Keith focus, “any particular reason you felt like seeing if we’d make good demigod shish-kabob? Usually it’s the monsters trying to kill u—”

Lance interrupts, taking a shallow breath between each phrase and making absolutely no sense: “No, no, you don’t understand. The thing, I saw a shadow, and then, like, I tried to swerve it, and, it was too big. It shadow traveled, poof, took me. I’m sorry but, we gotta run, like, now – it’s coming.”

Keith is on the verge of strangling Lance into telling them what the _Hades_ he is talking about, but Shiro cuts in. “What’s coming, Lance?”

A roar cuts into the already chaotic soundtrack of the street, and as Keith’s eyes settle on the source he takes a moment to wonder what the fuck the regular people around them are seeing.

Nothing good, that’s for sure.

“That,” gasps Lance, finger pointed up towards the massive Hellhound that had found it’s way into New York City traffic.

“Run!” Hunk yells, grabbing Pidge and Lance by the arms to encourage them but Keith needs no such help, legs already burning to put distance between the beast and himself.

He’s ahead of the group by far when he hears Lance yell to him.

“Keith! Turn right at the intersection! Look for a _Beta Traz Animal Shelter_!”

Styx, so they had been _really_ close to getting to their destination when the Hellhound hit them. Curse demigod luck.

Turning at an angle as to not lose speed, Keith takes a moment to be glad that the shelter was colored an ugly puke green – if not a little faded – and easily distinguishable. White block letters tell Keith that this is the destination Lance told him to look for (although it takes a second for his dyslexia to decipher _BAE TAZZ LAMINI SBILFR_ ). Keith turns to tell the others he’s found it, but freezes.

He’s the only one that turned onto the street. Where are the others?

He traces his steps back until the other street is in sight once more, but still doesn’t see them. Running further down the sidewalk with his heart in his throat, he almost forgets to breathe at the sight that greets him.

The rest of the demigods are cornered in an alleyway that leads to a dead end. How they ended up there, Keith doesn’t know, but he’s scared to see Lance and Pidge holding on to each other as if one of them is in need of the support. It looks like Lance is supporting Pidge, who’s ankle is twisted, maybe?

But the real shocker is how Hunk is almost face to face with the huge monstrous dog. “Calm down, pup! We are friends! _Not_ food!” he yells, a hand that’s shaking is held out as if to pacify the monster. Just as the Hellhound is going to make mincemeat of Hunk’s arm, however, Shiro cuts in with his golden arm. He gets in a good hit to the Hellhound’s nose, making it whine at a high pitch before roaring once more.

Luckily, the hit was enough time for Keith to come in running, and Hunk to get his bow and arrows situated. Keith slides low, using the stealth advantage of the monster not knowing he is there to slice at its hind legs, while Hunk lets his arrow fly for the monster’s eye.

However, the Hellhound must have had its own supernatural senses, because it kicks back just as Keith is about to swing and ducks its head, narrowly missing the arrow flying for its face.

Keith takes the hit with his shield and is thrown back against the wall of the alley – a beautiful mural of two seemingly naked women making love. There will definitely be a crick in his neck later. He blinks the darkness out of his eyes so he can get back to his feet.

Two bystanders look on at the scene from the mouth of the alley (which is very close to where Keith landed, so the team is even further from him, now), and Keith glares daggers at them until they scram. It’s better if no else gets hurt, and these mortals probably thought some sort of gang fight was going down. Mortals these days.

“Shiro, take Pidge,” Keith hears as he turns back to the scene, and sees Lance step towards the monster, awkwardly brandishing the celestial bronze daggers Hunk had gifted him to turn into slap on bracelets when not in use.

“Hey, Pup!” Lance shouted at the oversized dog. “You’re a good boy, aren’t you?”

The Hellhound seems to be confused for a moment, but it’s quick to hiss aggressively, jaws and teeth biting the air menacingly.

“What are you doing, you idiot?” Keith yells at Lance, completely thrown for how stupid the boy is being. Hunk had already tried this tactic – it hadn’t worked.

A steely blue glare is sent his way, but other than that, Lance’s focus remains on the beast at hand. “You should go take a nap somewhere, buddy. You’ve been such a good little Hellhound, attacking the poor gross little demigods bothering you. Now it’s time to go, don’t you think, ya good boy you?”

When the tone of Lance’s voice finally makes sense to Keith (in addition to an intense desire to yawn), he thinks that Lance’s charmspeak might actually work. The Hellhound’s tail starts wagging a bit, and slobber falls to the ground in front of Lance when it’s tongue lolls to the side of it’s huge jaw. The Underworld native just looks like an oversized Old Yeller now. It barks, but the sound is much less growly and almost sounds like an agreement to Lance’s suggestion: “Yup!”

So Keith feels confident that it’s working, and he’s ready to wish the Hellhound goodbye before it shadow travels away just like Lance is telling it too, but sadly, the rest of the universe doesn’t agree.

By the rest of the universe, Keith means Shiro.

Who _sneezes_.

The Hellhound and Lance – who is now _much_ too close for comfort – both freeze, eyeing the way that Shiro is comically covering his mouth with his hand. Keith glares at his friend with an intensity that is usually reserved for the worst of Greek mythology.

Out of its Lance-induced stupor, the monster seems a little pissed he was tricked. Lance’s mouth goes into a bit of ‘oops’ shape that would be quite cute in any other situation. Keith feels frozen in his spot, unable to do anything but look on at the disaster about to happen, still too far away. Why didn’t he move while Lance was talking.

Stupid.

Thank the gods, Hunk comes to the rescue when the Hellhound strikes at Lance. At first Keith is confused at Hunk’s glowing fist, but then remembers Hunk showing off the magic item yesterday. Lance distracts the Hellhound with his daggers as Hunk goes in for the kill.

“Ahh!” Shouts Hunk as he throws his fist. The hit finds home right on the beast’s muzzle, earning a cry from it.

 _Yes!_ Keith thinks as the Hellhound finally bursts into smithereens around Hunk’s clenched fist. The Celestial Bronze gauntlet he’d made himself for punching bad guys (which worked on a power that had frankly both confused and not really intrigued Keith) worked.

As silence falls over all of them, Keith quickly closes the distance. When they’ve all either limped or sorely gathered together around the dusty remains of the beast, all eyes are on Shiro.

The man smiles sheepishly, using his flesh arm to rub the back of his neck while the other still supports Pidge at his side. “Good save, Hunk. I- ahem, um - allergies, my bad.”

The group roll their eyes, but definitely take the moment as an opportunity to feel relieved _that_ was over.

Keith doesn’t hesitate before reaching into the pack on his back to get some Ambrosia, and breaks it into a couple of pieces. “Here,” he holds his hand out, waiting for the others, especially Pidge, to take some. They all look far more ruffled than they had when they left camp that morning, and Keith wonders if this is how the rest of the quest will go. With five demigods clumped together, one the son of the big three, chances were the answer was yes.

It’s still nice to feel his heart slow down in his chest. Nice to share a accomplished smile with Shiro and grateful gazes with Hunk and Pidge for being alive. He’d been far too used to being on his own, that much was obvious from the way he’d ran ahead. Keith curses himself, but sends a small thanks up to Ares for them all coming out the other end alright.

Pidge and Hunk take pieces, Hunk’s much smaller then hers. Keith pushes his hand closer to Lance when the boy doesn’t take any.

“Um, no, I’m good.”

Keith raises his brow. “You were in the front seat during the accident. You can’t tell me you’re not feeling seriously bruised.”

“Nope,” Lance says, obviously lying through his teeth.

“Lance, take some, man,” Hunk pushes Keith’s hand towards Lance even further.

The boy just steps away, grabbing Pidge’s discarded pack from the floor and throwing it over his shoulder. His wince at the movement does nothing to make the Keith’s irritation give away.

However, Lance’s words seem final on the topic when he tells them, “I’m good, thanks.”

When Keith turns to Shiro to get the man’s help on talking some sense into the son of Aphrodite, Shiro doesn’t meet his eye.

“That’s stupid,” Keith says, since it is. Having a hurt demigod if another hellhound or whatever monster of the hour shows up only puts all of them at more risk.

“No,” Pidge decides to step into the conversation. “What’s stupid is that we’re still standing here waiting for the next monster to show up. We should go.”

“Good that. I’m with Pidgeon,” says Lance, turning to walk out of the alley.

Shiro lightly grabs the brunette’s shoulder, making him pause. “Wait, we should talk about this. I know I screwed up a bit back there, with the sneeze and all – but our teamwork needs some serious work.”

They are all quiet in response to this, as there isn’t much to say. Shiro is right. Keith literally hadn’t even known where the rest of the team was, let alone that they were in trouble, for a solid couple of minutes.

“So, here it goes. Keith – don’t run ahead like that again, okay? And Pidge – yes, your katana is suited for close combat, but don’t go in against such a big opponent without back up, okay? Injuries aren’t always so lucky like yours was. Lance, you did pretty well, but we need to know what’s going on as clearly as possible next time. So no ranting at us until a Hellhound appears on your tail. Hunk – I got nothing, you were good. I’ll try to not let so much distance get put between us, next time. Or sneeze.”

Hunk smiles at Shiro. Pidge gives a sigh, but she knows he’s right – not that Keith was even there for that part, but Shiro is usually pretty good at this whole thing.

It seems like they’re ready to start moving, but Lance speaks up before they do. “Sorry, by the way. For the crash. That could have ended not so well.”

“No one blames you, Lance.”

Keith sees Lance direct a grateful smile to Shiro, but the other boy turns around much too quickly for it to be genuine.

Together, all of them make their way out of the alley. Keith vaguely wonders what was made of the wrecked van, but decides its no longer their problem. Maybe Chiron would be a little miffed, but hey, he was the one who let Lance drive.

 

 

 

 

 

The shelter is locked when they get there, and by the looks of it, also deserted.

Shiro smashes a metal fist into the glass door to make quick work of unlocking it from the inside, and none of them hesitate to follow the son of Zeus inside. ­­

They do hesitate, however, when what’s inside is revealed by Pidge tinkering with the lights.

Abandoned is the word that comes to mind by the leaking pipes in the ceiling drip-dropping to the floor or the trash, dirt and dust spread out around the store. There are dozens of cages in the room, which is pretty normal to animal shelters by Keith’s standards. What isn’t so normal is the one extremely huge cage by the back, taking up most of the space which would usually make up the counter and cashier area.

The strangest thing is that it’s the only cage in the room _not_ empty.

“Hey!” Shiro speaks to a pile of breathing fabric as he moves towards the cage. “Are you alright? Who put you in there?”

Lying on some blankets in one corner of the grand cage, a figure is shaking it’s head and pulling more blankets over itself.

“Leave me be!” The voice that calls out in reply to Shiro is accented. If he had to guess, maybe Indian or Pakistani? Keith and the rest of them back Shiro up by moving closer.

Confused by the prisoner(?)’s (Slav’s?) antics, Shiro looks back at Lance like, _are you sure you got the address right?_

Lance’s shoulders go up with his arms defensively. “Hey, don’t look at me. This is the address Apollo gave me.”

A blush follows his words, and Keith isn’t sure how to feel about Lance blushing whenever his  ‘conversation’ with Apollo is brought up. Either way, he rips his eyes from where they got caught admiring the flush of Lance’s dark skin because this was so not the moment.

Shiro attempts to talk to the caged person once more, taking the lead for all of them. “Are you Slav? Son of Athena?”

A nervous yet very obnoxious laugh comes from the pile of blankets. The demigods look at each other in the dim lighting, feeling completely thrown and a little more irritated by the second.

“What’s so funny?” Hunk voices all their thoughts uncertainly. “Like, man, are you Slav? We kind of need your help.”

More laughter, but now, it’s coupled with the figure moving. Slowly, out from under the covers comes a man who’s age is hard to pinpoint. He appears very short, skin tone on the darker brown side with wide green intelligent eyes. He’s dressed in a dark tunic of sorts, and he wears loose turquoise pants. He’s barefoot, and his dark hair is frazzled as if shocked by electricity.

“You are Slav?” asks Lance, head tilted in obvious dismay. The man smiles at the son of Aphrodite, eyes twinkling with hidden knowledge. He has a lot of frown lines that become more visible with the action. “Why are you in this cage then?”

The man sits up fully, legs criss-cross applesauce. His arms are crossed at his front and his lip curls distastefully as he says, “I’ve forgotten how nosy demigods are. In 98 and 3/100ths of a percent with a visit from demigods, I die!”

Keith sees Pidge’s eyes roll. “Aren’t you a demigod too?”

Slav uncrosses his arms and starts rearranging the blanket. “Technicalities. I am not in every reality,” he mutters, and ignores them in favor of fixing his blankets. It seems like there was some sort of method to what he did to the mangy fabric, but Keith did not care enough to try and figure it out.

“What are you doing?” Shiro asks, sounding irritated. A beat, and then, “And why are you in this cage?”

As Slav leans to take a sour look at Shiro before going to his blankets, Keith straightens up in awareness.

“In every reality, cages are good to hold important things.”

There was a shimmer as the alleged son of Athena moved, and as he grew up keeping an eye out for it, Keith knew what that meant.

“Wait,” he points his sword straight at the cage, nevermind the fact that Slav probably couldn’t touch any of them through it. “You’re hiding something.”

The man’s eyes meet his, undeniable mirth within. It’s a complete change from the previously annoyed expressions, and it’s kind of scary, if Keith is honest.  

“I see. In this reality you have been given multiple chances to master the identification of the Mist, son of Ares.”

He doesn’t hesitate to put his sword through the bars at Slav’s throat.

“How do you know who my father is?” Keith asks angrily. “Who are you?” And what did this man think he knew about him?

“Gahh!” The caged figure retreats as far back from the blade as he can. “I am Slav, you temper-less half-blood! Sheath your sword! Swords lead to death in 58% of all possible outcomes in all realities!”

“Calm down, Keith,” says Shiro, pulling on Keith till his sword is fully out of the bars, although it remains pointed directly at Slav from beyond the cage. “Slav – help us out here, what is he talking about?”

Slav gives a sigh, his shoulders rolling as he stands up from the crouch he’d taken to escape Keith. He crosses his arms, a shimmer, and then – Keith was right.

He’d been covering something up, but it wasn’t what Keith expected.

Slav is not crossing one pair of arms, but four. He continues fixing his blankets as they get over the Mist hiding his true form from view.

Keith hears his fellow demigods gasp.

“Who’s your father?” Hunk is first to ask once they’ve gotten over their surprise.

Slav hmphs disapprovingly at the question. Keith feels a touch of second hand embarrassment for the lack of tact that Hunk used when it came to that particular immortal parent related question – demigods should know the best that they were always the worst to answer. Slav answers anyways, sassily staring Hunk head on.

“Who do you think he is? Only the most intelligent son of Ouranos and Gaea, in any reality in which the Greek deities still rule the Western world.”

Pidge jumps forward till she is right in front of Keith, both hands grasping the cage in excitement. “Your father is the last Hundred-Handed One alive! Briares!”

A piece of previously learned knowledge flies to the forefront of Keith’s mind. He recalls that Briares is a mythological being who had a hundred arms and hands. It’s said that the guy is pretty good at rock-paper-scissors, or at least, Keith is pretty sure he remembers reading that in a scribbled note next to the text.

“The last what-a-what-a? Who? Which reality?” Lance asks, a bit dumbly. Hunk puts a hand on his shoulder.

“I told you to pay more attention in Ancient Greek, buddy.”

Keith resists the urge to roll his eyes and turns back to Slav.

“Yes,” the man says, sitting back down. “Although, in some realities I am merely a humble Bytor in space, peaceful with my blankets.” His attention span must be worse than Keith’s (ADHD is a bitch) because he turns himself around and decides to start playing with his blankets again. He sends a small glare to Pidge for asking, as if he’d be in peace if they just left him to his blankets.

Shiro’s infuriated expression tempts Keith with a burst of laughter, but he manages to hold it in. This Slav guy was turning out to be a whole lot more trouble to deal with than any of them had expected.

“Look,” Shiro demands, “whatever you are, we’ve been told you know where the last known entrance to Dedaelus’ La—”

“Ahhh!” screeches Slav loudly, one pair of hands coming up to cover his ears. “Don’t say that! Don’t say those names!”

Keith has never seen Shiro so ungrounded as he is then, hands fisting at his sides as he lowers them from where they were blocking the screech. The rest of the group also lower their hands from their ears. This Slav had a pair of lungs on him.

“What, why?” Shiro almost yells, tone past exasperated and on the edge of aggressive.

“Because!” Slav exclaims in return, as if what he is saying is obvious. Keith has heard of names holding power, but something told him that this was mostly paranoia. Daedalus wasn’t some monster like the Minotaur or a ruthless god like Nemesis. “In every reality, saying a creature or being’s name holds power, and in Greek mythology that holds even more truth! Now more than ever the being you speak of is on the verge of creating a major rift in all realities! Crack! War and prophecies and choices and no-no-no the chances get lower and lower as I speak! No!”

Slav completely submerges himself in his blankets his body shaking. Keith puts his sword down. This frantic cowering mess didn’t appear to be much of a threat anymore.

Lance reaches an arm over Shiro to lean sideways on the cage and question, “What, you’re saying you can predict what will happen in different realities? Say what?”

Pidge ignores his question and kneels so her face can be level with the jumble of blankets. “Wait, the Labyrinth isn’t alive! This doesn’t make sense. It’s not a _being_. Or, at least, it shouldn’t be.”

Slav lets just his head peak out, a sliver of a very nervous chattering smile on his face. His teeth were yellow, and it made Keith wonder how long this man had been in the cage. “Don’t believe everything you read in books, sister.”

Shiro cuts off whatever Pidge had planned on responding with. “Enough!”

His golden arm lights up, glowing hot before he swings it down towards the cage and burns through enough of the bars that as they start falling forwards, Keith has to back up and push Hunk and Pidge back as well. Shiro is able to push Lance back in time as well, Keith notes with a swallow.

(Keith takes a millisecond to wonder how Shiro did that, as he didn’t see any lighting or source of electricity make its way into the room? They’d trained together before countless times, so it’s weird to see Shiro use a new power so carelessly.)

Slav screeches again, cutting off any train of thought Keith might have been having. “Nooo! What have you done? Now there are so many more chances that I will die in the next minute! 38%! No! You reckless and useless think they know it all demigods! Put them back, put them back! Oh, no, oh there is water there! I’m going to drown, I’m going to drown—”

Slav keeps going at his rambling, but Lance cuts into it with a gasp. “Oh my gods! Little warning next time, Shiro!”

Keith’s eyes zoom to him, who looks pretty done with the situation. He’s obviously favoring his left side, which pisses Keith off because Lance should have fucking taken some of the offered Ambrosia earlier. He wonders if Shiro’s impulsive move had made what was probably some bad bruising worse.

“Slav!” Lance cries, hand holding his hip in a badly veiled guise to keep pressure off his bad side. “Did you put _yourself_ in this cage?”

Slav is trembling with his entire body, barely a pair of red green eyes peeking out from the blankets. “Yes! I told you! Cages are good! Keep things in but also keep things out! Like meddling half-bloods and cursed monsters.”

The whole group look at each other, lost. Pidge seems to get an idea though, and urges the team to hunch in closer.

“Okay, okay,” she whispers, “If—”

“What are you whispering about!?” Slav imposes on them, still in his corner but staring at them head on in a decidedly creepy way. “In 27.66% of all realities this is where you plan to take the information by force, or- or, kill me! A horrible death, drowning in a puddle or- -or---”

“Shut _up_!” Keith yells, pleased when four other voices echo his. “Pidge, go on.”

“Lance does the talking, but we tell him that Hunk will put the cage back together if he tells us what we need to know.”

“Why am I doing the talking?” Lance whines, protesting. All of them, including Keith, look at him for a second with their brows raised. Slav mutters a variation of ‘roses are red, violets are blue’ that ends in ‘why are children of the gods so insensitive, this will all end in poo’ behind them.

Lance shrugs sheepishly when it clicks. “Right, of course. Okay, yeah, I’ll try. Nothing a little Lancey Lance can’t handle.”

The group barely looks unimpressed at the response. Maybe Slav’s entirely annoying personality has made Lance look like an angel in comparison, Keith supposes?

Nodding to each other after going over a couple other details, they turn back around to face Slav confidently. Keith hits his fists together to put his sword away, pleased at the feel of leather back under his palms.

“So, Slav, my man. We’ve got an idea that’ll make sure you don’t, let’s say, drown in a puddle or die a horrible other death. In this reality, at least.”

Slav looks at him sharply and suspiciously. “What is it?”

“You tell us what we both know that we need, we fix up your cage before we leave. Even ask our parents for some godly luck for you, yeah? Or… well, or we make shish-kabob of your beloved cage, and say a couple hundred names in Greek mythology before we’re out of your, um, arms. Starting with Medu—”

“Agghh! No! You wouldn’t!”

The threat was real, but Keith didn’t think he’d have liked it if Lance finished that sentence. Medusa was so not someone he felt like coming across right now. After having to deal with those haughty Empousai, he’s done with snakes for a while. Slav may have been a paranoid guy, but there was a reason all of them were taught that names held power once or twice at camp.

Lance glares back at Slav, blue eyes piercing. “And another thing, stop screeching.”

“Fix cage first!”

Lance rolls his eyes, putting his arm up to lean in the open space created by Shiro. His demeanor changes back to charming and convincing in a flash. He looks carefree, but his words have a pull that is nothing but cool con. “Have I mentioned that we are on a very tasking quest to save the world? Which, last I checked, is where you live? And, in conclusion, its end is synonymous with _your_ end? And that would totally and royally suc—”

Slav’s green red tinted eyes had widened impossibly more with each word, and finally, he interrupts with, “Shuuuuuuuuuuuush!” 

Lance doesn’t even flinch at the screech, smirking at his own victory. Keith shouldn’t be impressed, not since this is the fourth time Lance uses his smarmy tongue for them, but… Well, he is. He also has a strong urge to give Lance information so he doesn’t die when the world ends. He chooses to ignore both Lance related feelings.

“I will tell you what you need to know. In most realities I do.”

The whole group breathes a sigh of relief. This is almost over. Shiro’s shoulders droop, and Hunk and Pidge’s expressions become determined. Keith sees Hunk turn towards his bag ready to fetch his magical tool box. Keith had been a bit doubtful the thing would be a hassle to carry – it looked heavy – but the bags were all charmed by the Hecate cabin to be lightweight.

Shiro steps up beside Lance, who moves over to give him a bit of reign. Slav scooches back on his bum a bit, hands fisted in his blankets.

 “Where can we find the entrance to the – the ‘maze’?” the son of Zeus asks. Keith could swear he sees a spark in the older boys stormy eyes with the question.

Slav hmphs a bit before turning around dramatically, most of his dark tunic covered back to them. His hair looked even crazier from behind. “Just swear on the River Styx you will fix my cage before you depart.”

Swearing on the Styx is a huge commitment _and_ dangerous. Keith fidgets alongside Pidge and Hunk, waiting for Lance to step up and argue their way out of it.

“Done,” Lance replies quickly. “But - you have to swear as well – that you will give us the information before we part.”

What? That wasn’t the plan. He looks to Hunk for support, but the guy isn’t paying attention to him, tinkering nervously with the tool in his hand as he watches Lance. Shiro is frowning, but he too isn’t paying attention to Keith.

“Agreed,” Slav turns around with a bit of a hop in his maneuver. His eight arms spread outwards for a moment as he stands. “Although your tongue is made of charm, son of the love goddess, in most realities you are not a liar. You first.”

Lance mockingly crosses his pointer finger over his heart, weaponized bronze bracelets glinting as he does so. “I swear on the S—”

“Lance!” Keith stops him mid-sentence, not understanding how none of the other demigods found this okay. Swearing on the Styx could be _lethal._

“What, Keith?” Lance is quick to snap. Whenever his mood spikes, Keith has noticed, the aura around him reflects it, a kaleidoscope of expression made to distract onlookers. The cut off jean shorts and sleeveless hoodie shouldn’t act to make someone look regal, but Lance manages it.

Maybe Lance has a death wish, he contemplates. None of the others seem keen to tell Lance how stupid he’s being, and with Slav’s careful green eye on him, Keith relents.

“Nothing. Go on.”

Both Slav and Lance swear their own oaths, the rest of the demigods holding their breath behind them. If Lance did have a death wish, Keith can’t stop the thought from coming to him, the way Keith has brushed him off for the last four years probably had something to do with it. As Lance finishes saying his oath the energy around him recedes, similar to the confrontation with the hellhound.

Clearing his throat, the son of Athena breaks the tense oath induced atmosphere. “You will find the entrance in Los Angeles, California. Look for DOA Recording Studios, but don’t confuse the entrance to hell as the entrance to your destination.”

What?

“Hell?” Keith blurts. “Do you mean the Under—”

Slav almost screams at them, grabbing his blankets off the floor and dramatically twisting himself into a standing eight-handed burrito. “No more questions!! I have completed my part of the deal. Fulfill your oath, you senseless half-bloods! Or there is an 100% chance the son of Aphrodite will die.”

Pidge puts a hand on Keith’s bicep. Although he feels as though he’d like nothing better to rip her hand off and demand answers from her half-brother, he doesn’t. The other demigods are looking at him worriedly, but Keith notices a green tinge on Lance’s face.

Slav is right. Lance _will_ die if they don’t fix that cage, and fast.

“Hunk,” Shiro calls, following Keith’s eyeline to Lance. “Work your magic.”

“I’m on it!” the son of Hephaestus calls gladly, welcoming the escape to familiar territory and helping his friend. Pidge lets go of Keith to back him up.

Less then five minutes later, the five of them exit the deserted animal shelter.

He doesn’t realize how musty the air inside the shelter had been until his first gulp of fresh air. The street in front of them isn’t busy, but Shiro is quick to start walking.

“Let’s start moving,” he adjusts the pack on his shoulders. “We should talk to Allura about this.”

“You’re right,” Pidge voices her agreement. “That guy might have been my brother, but the whole thing was iffy. The path to hell? Like, it’s obvious he’s talking about the Under—”

“Hey, Pidge? Haven’t we tempted the odds enough today? I’d rather we try Slav’s way of doing things, at least for now.”

“Hunk, fear of the name creates fear of the thing itself,” Pidge sighs, hands tapping at her thighs. She sends the boy a smirk to let him know she’s kidding, “Or hasn’t Hermione Granger taught you anything?”

“Very funny, guys,” says Lance, “but you’re right, Pidge. That guy gave me the heebie-jeebies, besides being super annoying.”

“I feel bad for him,” says Hunk, voice solemn.

Keith agrees. His life had been full of ups and downs and near-death experiences – demigod lives usually were – but he can’t imagine how bad he’d have to have it to want to lock himself in a cage so as to keep all the bad things out.

They follow Shiro for a moment without saying anything, and then, “Well, annoying or not, we got what we need. And it seemed like he had some idea about our prophecy. I just hope we’re one of the realities where everything works out.”

The words are intended to sound optimistic, maybe, but to Keith all it sounds like is the hard truth to swallow. The odds on this quest are already been stacked against them, if today was any proof.

“Do we Iris message Allura, then?” Keith stops walking, noticing that the small park beside them had a water fountain they could use. The sun is shining high to the east, reminding him that this long day is far from over.

The others stop, but before Keith gets a reply, a shimmer in front of him alerts them to an incoming Iris call.

Quickly, Keith grabs Hunk and Lance by their arms so that they create a semi-circle that mostly hides the call from mortal eyes.

Appearing before their eyes as if called into being by Keith’s words, Allura stands against a backdrop of the Camp. If Keith has to guess from the silvery building behind her, he’d say she is using the fountain in the middle of all the Cabins. He’s both grateful and a little concerned at the lack of activity seen behind Allura; usually the cabin grounds were packed with activity all day.

“Allura!” greets Lance, smiling dorkily. “It’s a pleasure to see you, Princess.”

“Why did you call?” Shiro adds.

Allura smiles at them, her white curls seemingly camouflaging with the magical mystified water her image is reflected on. “Greetings, fellow friends. I have called because I sensed a need for my presence?”

She looks at Shiro as she asks the question. He smiles shortly in response, cheeks slightly flushed.

“You were right. We know the location of the entrance.”

Pidge straightens up to inform her of the location Slav gave them. “It’s next door to DOA Recording Studios, LA.”

“Lance was right!” Hunk exclaims proudly, much to Lance’s apparent embarrassment. “Your father gave him the right address.”

“I never doubted you five,” Allura grasps her hands together proudly. “I am glad that Lance’s discovery of his Charmspeak has come in handy. Is there anything else that happened?”

“Yeah,” Keith says. “A Hellhound got to us right before we were at Slav’s, and well, Slav wasn’t a ray of sunshine to deal with, either.”

“Oh my,” Allura barely contains a gasp. She takes a step back from the call, grasped hands wrangling together. “Hellhound’s are not the kinds of creatures to disturb the mortal world without a reason, usually. They mostly remain in Hades’s realm.”

Hunk takes the arm he’d thrown around Lance off, bringing it back to himself dubiously. “Princess, are you saying someone must have sent that thing?”

Shiro and Keith share a hard look as the possibility that hadn’t occurred to either of them settles in. “Who would do that?” he asks.

Shiro speaks up before any of them can offer an answer. “Keith, Lance, do either of you remember what the snake ladies that chased me to Half-Blood Hill kept saying? Why they wouldn’t give up, even though they had been chasing me since I’d come out of the labyrinth?”

Keith does his best to recall anything the Empousai had said, but earnestly, there had been way too many more important things than hearing the bullshit those bitches had to say that night. Like, rescuing Shiro, or coming to terms with the fact that he’d been lead back to camp after almost a year of having left.

Luckily, it seems that Lance’s memory is clearer. He locks gazes with Shiro intensely. “They said something about a master, I think. And how you were worth a lot. I don’t know, but do you think maybe they’d been working with the same people who kept you locked up for a year, Shiro?”

Keith sees all of them try to process what Lance is saying. It’s a lot. Monsters working together? That seems like a new one for Keith. And under one master?

Not since the great wars.

“Please insert another drachma for five more minutes,” a cloudlike voice cuts off their reactions to Lance’s words. Allura makes a face on the other side of the call.

“I will speak to Chiron and Coran, maybe they know something we don’t,” she hurries. “Now, the five of you be safe, and keep in touch. Lance, don’t forget what you told us, I have a feeling that—”

Whatever feeling Allura wanted to share would remain a mystery, as the Iris call evaporates with a bop. Lances steps away from the group and into the grassy area of the park, plopping himself down onto the green without hesitation.

Shrugging, Keith joins him. When all of them are seated, luckily in a shady spot beside a leafy oak with their packs off and a map of America spread flat in front of them, Pidge claps her hands together with initiative.

“How are we getting to Los Angeles?” She may have asked that question, but her hazel brown eyes demand answers to questions none of them have any way of figuring out. Keith agrees they should focus on the most blatant problem first, but no ideas come to mind as means of traveling across the country.

The city noises seem louder for a moment, distracting Keith from thinking. He hears a bird twitter and closes his eyes, neck extended back so a slimmer of sunlight might shine on his face. The day already feels much too long and Keith is an action person, not a come up with plans person. Plus, this whole team work thing got exhausting the minute they stepped into the van together. The rest of them can try solving this problem, Keith is out. He grabs a bottle of water and granola bars from his pack, throwing some onto the map before chomping into his own.  

Everyone is quick to pick one up. Keith closes his eyes once more, surprised when a hand lands on his thigh a few moments later. He jerks, spitting out a “What?”

Shiro removes his hand, placing it over the map, finger pointed to New York.

“We fly, of course,” he says, and Keith’s eyes immediately roll, because yeah, right. Shiro may be the son of Zeus and all, but unless he secretly owns a private jet he’s not telling them about…

“Did meeting Slav mess with your head, Shiro?”

“Yeah, dude,” Hunk snorts. “Like, I know you’re a son of the scary sky dude, my man, but I’m pretty sure flying to Olympus would be easier.”

Lance grins and gives Shiro a teasing pat on the back. “And not to mention, I don’t know about you, but I left my passport in Cuba.”

“How would you expect that to work?” asks Pidge, voice surprisingly level for the seriousness the rest of them were taking Shiro’s suggestion with.

Shiro is blushing, but he answers her question confidently. “Well, we have _Lance_ , we have me, and—” he rummages around in his bag “—we have this.”

Metal fingers hold up a flashy bronze and turquoise credit card.

Lance grins softly, white toothed smile making the sun shine dimmer in comparison. Keith smiles too, because as Hunks puts it:

“You make a compelling case, Sparky.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading!! One more Keith chappie than back to Lance!! Btw, somthin to look forward to is that we will get three Shiro chapters in the entirety of this fic, which I believe so far in the outline are 13, 14, 15. =) [i do plan on editing all these eventually my beta finishes school soon so yay]
> 
> Also ya'll, I am kind of thinking of starting a tumblr just for this fic/just for my writing, please comment letting me know if you would want to send me prompts/ask for sneak peaks of HFWC/etc. =D right now i am only lumenalumia <3
> 
> !!!!!!!!: Tis summer for me! so my new goal (maybe not for May cause i dun fucked up April) is two chaps a month!! encourage me and this WILL happen!! I'd love to hear what you think of Keith in this ch, Lance and his power, my adaptation of Slav, the plot???? (what plot???) (jokes there is plot i promise), the team working together (or not so much), my blatant Harry Potter references (did i make any of you laugh i try sometimesssss), and how the excessive characters i juggled worked out, eh or neh?? [+ tell me blatant grammar errors pleaseeeee]
> 
> have a great dayyy!!!!!!! love ya'll <3<3<3

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading =)
> 
> Please, please, please leave a comment if that's something you're capable of, it means the world to me as a writer but also just as a person trying to find time and energy to give you some new material. 
> 
> Any guesses to Lance's parent? It's not very hard to guess haha, but i wanted to keep it suspenseful. If you have read PJO I'm warning you now that this fic will be structured a lot like one of Riordan's novels plot wise, so i hope i do him justice. Also PJO fans, the title is inspired from Viria's amazing fanart video for Pjo amd HOO. look it up, you won't regret it. 
> 
> Constructive criticism and feed back is super duper welcome guys! have a great night all of you and hopefully you click the subscribe button and come back for more later <3
> 
> my tumblr is Lumenalumia and if you wanna tag anything on tumblr for this fic use the tag #hfwcvoltron


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